JOE    LESLIE'S    WIFE 


cat. 


A  SKELETON  IN  THE  CLOSET 


BY 
ALEXANDER  ROBERTSON,  M.  D. 


Author  of  "Gold-Maker  of  Lisbon"  "Little  Sweetheart* 

"Phantom  Smuggler?  "Diana  Thorpe,"  "Frozen 

hearts"  "Nora's Legacy"  etc. 


CHICAGO 

THE  HENNEBERRY  COMPANY 
554  WABASH  AVENUE 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     The  Office  of  a  New  York  Detective 17 

II     Two  of  a  Kind 28 

III  The  Tell-tale  Scrap  of  Paper 39 

IV  The   House  on  Twenty-seventh  Street 50 

V     The  Man  Dressed  as  a  Bull-tighter 61 

VI     Marian 73 

VII  A  Brand  from  the  Burning 83 

VIII  The  Jehu  Adds  to  the  Mystery 94 

IX     Joe's  Secret 105 

X     That  Meerschaum  Pipe 116 

XI     All  is  Forgiven 127 

XII  The  Opium  Joint  138 

XIII  A  Terrible  Doom 149 

XIV  Another  Link  in  the  Chain 160 

XV  Comparing  Notes ' 171 

XVI  The  Locked  Saratoga  182 

XVII  The  Artist  is  Defiant 193 

XVIII  Fortune's  Favors - 204 

XIX  The  Time  Draws  Near 215 

XX  For  Plunder 226 

XXI  The  Cottage  Beyond  the  Harlem 237 

XXII  Almost 248 

XXIII  The  Messenger  with  Good  News 259 

XXIV  Conclusion..  .  268 


2137934 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

OR 
A   SKELETON  IN  THE  CLOSET 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  OFFICE  OF  A  NEW  YORK  DETECTIVE 

The  little  clock  in  the  dingy  office  of  Eric 
Darrell  was  just  pointing  out  the  hour  of  four 
when  there  came  a  rap  on  the  door.  Within  the 
proprietor  sat  alone,  his  feet  elevated  upon  the 
top  of  a  desk,  and  from  his  position  it  was  evi- 
dent that  his  thoughts  were  far  away,  for  al- 
though he  took  an  occasional  whiff  at  his  cigar, 
it  was  in  an  absent-minded  way. 

At  this  summons,  his  interest  was  at  once 
aroused — his  feet  came  down  from  their  ele- 
vated position,  and  an  expression  appeared 
on  his  face  that  might  have  been  a  smile. 

"A  woman,  by  Jove!"    he   muttered,   giving 
17 


i8  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

his  handkerchief  a  flirt  over  the  desk  where  his 
feet  had  been  so  recently  deposited. 

There  was  no  guess-work  about  this,  neither 
had  the  detective  been  able  to  distinguish  any- 
thing feminine  about  the  knock. 

Over  the  door  was  a  peculiar  little  contriv- 
ance, which  by  means  of  several  small  mirrors 
would  tell  the  occupant  of  the  office  who  sum- 
moned him — a  useful  affair  under  the  circum- 
stances, as  the  detective  might  at  some  time 
have  a  vLIcor  bent  on  taking  his  life,  and  under 
such  circumstances  he  would  be  warned. 

Jumping  to  his  feet  he  approached  the  door — 
had  it  been  a  man  he  probably  would  have  sung 
out:  "Come  in,"  and  been  done  with  it. 

A  lady  stood  there. 

She  was  deeply  veiled,  and  yet  there  was 
that  about  her  dress  that  bespoke  the  lady. 

Darrell  saw  this  at  the  first  glance,  and  also 
judged  from  her  figure  that  she  was  young. 

"Is  this  the  office  of  Mr.  Darrell?"  she  asked, 
in  low,  pleasing  tones. 

"Yes,  madam,"  replied  the  other,  respectfully. 

"Is  he  in?" 

"I  am  Eric  Darrell,  at  your  service.  If  you 
wish  to  see  me  on  business  will  you  come  in?" 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  19 

He  stepped  aside  as  he  spoke. 

"Thank  you,  I  will." 

As  the  lady  entered  the  room,  the  detective 
closed  the  door,  and  with  the  pressure  of  his 
thumb  secured  it  so  that  no  one  could  enter 
without  knocking.  It  was  not  his  intention  to 
be  rudely  interrupted  in  his  interview — he  had 
from  time  to  time  all  sorts  of  visitors,  and  did 
not  mean  that  one  of  the  men  he  employed 
should  come  in  upon  them  while  they  were  en- 
gaged in  talking. 

The  lady  had  already  seated  herself,  and 
seemed  to  be  looking  around  the  room,  through 
her  veil,  with  considerable  interest. 

Perhaps  it  was  her  first  visit  to  the  office  of  a 
detective,  and  she  was  taken  with  the  strange 
assortment  of  mementoes  that  hung  around  the 
room. 

Eric  Darrell  swept  his  eyes  about  him,  and 
something  akin  to  a  smile  came  over  his  face  as 
he  viewed  his  curiosity  shop — there  were  scores 
and  scores  of  murderous  tools  and  ingenious 
contrivances,  each  of  which  was  connected  with 
some  crime  or  criminal  in  the  past  history  of  New 
York,  and  in  the  pursuit  of  his  chosen  business 
he  had  been  brought  into  connection  with  the 
affair  or  the  individual. 


2O  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

The  detective  was  a  little  proud  of  his  collec- 
tion, as  well  as  the  Rogue's  Gallery  over  the 
desk,  where  some  hundreds  of  faces  were  repre- 
sented, many  extremely  brutal  and  some  good- 
looking,  while  the  pictures  of  women  were  not 
infrequent. 

"My  clerk  is  out  this  afternoon,  madam — we 
are  quite  alone,  so  that  you  may  speak  without 
any  fear  of  being  overheard,"  he  said,  as  he  took 
a  chair,  and  sat  down  facing  his  unknown  client. 

"I  am  glad  of  that,  Mr.  Darrell,  for  what  I 
have  to  say  to  you  must  be  kept  a  dead  secret." 

The  detective  was  more  than  ever  convinced 
that  he  had  to  deal  with  a  young  woman — her 
figure  was  exceedingly  pleasing,  and  her  voice 
a  sympathetic  one. 

"Madam,  I  am  daily  entrusted  with  secrets 
by  all  manner  of  persons.  You  can  rely  upon 
it  that  anything  you  tell  me  in  confidence  will 
be  as  safe  as  though  whispered  in  the  ear  of  a 
father  confessor.  That  is  my  business — we  de- 
tectives rival  the  family  doctors  in  being  made 
the  repository  of  secrets." 

This  was  well  put  and  quite  reassuring,  as  he 
had  intended  it  should  be. 

The  lady  must  have  confidence  in  him  now, 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  21 

"Mr.  Darrell,  I  want  your  assistance  in  a 
little  domestic  matter.  I  am  a  young  married 
woman — have  been  married  a  year,  and  my  hus- 
band is  a  man  you  would  call  one  in  a  thousand 
—a  truthful,  honorable  gentleman,  a  favorite 
with  every  one  he  knows. 

"I  love  him  deeply,  esteem  his  noble  qualities, 
and  believe  we  could  be  happy  through  life,  but 
there  is  a  canker  sore  eating  my  heart — Joe  has 
a  secret,  a  terrible  secret,  and  the  knowledge  of 
it  is  making  me  miserable." 

She  seemed  a  little  overcome,  and  Darrell 
waited;  meantime  he  grimly  thought  to  himself 
how  many  Joes  here  in  this  wicked  city  of  New 
York  kept  terrible  secrets  from  their  wives — yes, 
and  the  boot  was  on  the  other  leg  too. 

His  business  had  brought  him  into  contact 
with  many  such  scenes. 

"Pardon  my  feeling  so  badly,  Mr.  Darrell. 
These  things  are  an  old  story  to  you,  but  with 
me  it  means  the  wrecking  of  my  whole  life,  and 
I  am  weak  enough  to  be  troubled  by  it." 

He  hastened  to  reassure  her  that  he  fully  sym- 
pathized with  her  feelings. 

Thus  encouraged  she  went  on: 

"If  ever  a  woman  had  reason  to  trust  her  hus- 


22  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

band  I  have — and  yet,  as  I  said,  Jos  has  a  secret 
from  me,  the  knowledge  of  which  is  making  me 
miserable. 

"I  would  not  have  him  ever  suspect  that  I 
came  to  consult  you  about  it,  but  I  am  deter- 
mined to  know  the  truth — I  am  his  wife  —if  he 
is  gambling  in  secret,  connected  with  any  secret 
society  or  going  to  see  some  other  woman  I  am 
resolved  to  know  the  worst. 

"It  is  hard  for  me  to  explain  my  position,  Mr. 
Darrell — I  believe  in  and  trust  my  husband  as 
much  as  nearly  any  woman  could,  but  I  know  he 
is  keeping  something  from  me,  which  excites  my 
curiosity  greatly." 

This  was  an  old  story  with  Darrell. 

He  had  seen  other  Joes  before. 

In  his  own  mind  he  was  immediately  con- 
vinced that  the  man  was  guilty. 

He  believed  Joe  to  be  an  unmitigated  scoun- 
drel to  treat  his  young  and  pretty  wife  in  this 
way — for  the  detective  had  already  decided  this 
question  and  believed  the  owner  of  this  voice 
and  figure  must  also  be  handsome. 

So  he  began  to  dig  for  facts,  a  little  ruthlessly 
perhaps,  because  it  was  business. 

Your  professor   of  anatomy  does  not  waste 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  23 

time  when  getting  down  to  a  certain  nerve  or 
muscle  which  he  wishes  to  expose  to  his  class — 
the  knife  is  applied  without  stint. 

So  the  detective  asked  questions  in  order  to 
expose  as  much  of  the  game  as  possible. 

"You  have  no  hint  of  the  truth,  madam?" 

"None." 

"Before  marriage,  was  your  husband  a  man 
of  the  world  ?" 

"He  was  always  steady  and  quiet.  I  have  nev- 
er heard  that  my  Joe  ever  had  an  entangling  al- 
liance before  we  were  married." 

Even  this  did  not  reassure  Darrell — he  was  a 
little  skeptical  with  regard  to  such  a  man,  being 
inclined  to  reflect  that  still  water  runs  deep. 

His  daily  business  brought  him  in  contact 
with  so  much  of  the  evil  of  life  that  he  had  a 
rather  poor  opinion  of  mankind  in  general — 
though  ready  to  bow  before  woman's  goodness, 
even  after  having  had  experience  with  numer- 
ous confidence  women  and  others,  who  were 
more  difficult  to  manage  than  male  criminals. 

For  instance,  here  was  a  case  in  point — a  con- 
fiding, loving  wife — a  cruel,  deceiving  husband. 

"I  understand,  madam.  How  long  have  these 
strange  visits  been  going  on?" 


24  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"I  do  not  know." 

"How  long  have  you  been  aware  of  them?" 

"For  two  weeks.  By  accident  I  discovered 
that  Joe  was  in  the  habit  of  leaving  his  office  at 
half-past  four,  and  he  never  reaches  home  until 
an  hour  and  a  half  later. 

"Even  this  did  not  do  more  than  pique  me  a 
little  to  think  he  dallied  so  long,  when  he  should 
have  hurried  home  to  me — but  three  days  later, 
again  by  accident,  I  saw  him  enter  a  house  on 
Twenty-seventh  Street. 

"At  first  I  could  not  believe  my  eyes  and  I 
felt  as  though  I  would  swoon.  It  was  just  five 
o'clock,  and  he  seemed  in  a  dreadful  hurry. 

"What  impressed  me  as  being  the  strangest 
part  of  the  business,  was  the  fact  that  he  did 
not  ring  or  even  knock  on  the  door,  but  with  a 
key  let  himself  in  as  though  he  belonged  there !" 

Of  course — Darrell's  eyebrows  went  up,  but 
he  made  no  remark — he  could  see  through  a  mill- 
stone with  a  hole  in  it. 

"I  don't  know  why  I  hurried  home  but  I  did 
so  with  a  trembling  heart.  Joe  came  in  at  his 
usual  time,  and  I  endeavored  to  be  myself  so 
that  he  might  suspect  nothing. 

"On  the  next  day,  however,    something  im- 


joe  LESLIE'S  WIFE  25 

pelled  me  to  go  to  Twenty-seventh  Street  again. 

"Opposite  to  this  house  was  a  French  restau- 
rant, and  about  ten  minutes  to  five  I  entered 
here  and  ordered  supper,  sitting  at  the  window 
and  yet  far  enough  back  not  to  be  seen. 

"It  lacked  but  one  minute  to  five  when  Joe 
came  down  the  street  from  the  elevated  station, 
walking  very  fast,  and  went  in  that  house. 

"I  sat  there  until  twenty  minutes  of  six,  when 
he  came  out  again,  and  walked  more  slowly 
down  the  street. 

"Mr.  Darrell,  I  shall  say  nothing  about  my 
feelings — you  can  understand  them  well  enough. 
What  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  discover  who  lives 
in  that  house,  and  why  Joe  Leslie  spends  the 
better  part  of  an  hour  there  every  day." 

"Who — Joe  Leslie — good  heavens!  it  can't 
be  the  Joe  Leslie  I  know!" 

The  lady  seemed  surprised  at  his  words,  and 
swept  her  veil  aside. 

Then  Darrell  saw  he  had  made  no  mistake  in 
believing  her  to  be  pretty — she  was  more  than 
that,  really  handsome. 

"My  husband  is  Joseph  Gregory  Leslie." 

"Then  he  is  the  man  I  know — a  man  whom  I 
have  always  believed  the  best  of  men,  liked  by 


26  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

every  one  acquainted  with  him.  It  seems  in- 
credible that  he  should  be  engaged  in  anything 
of  this  character." 

"Because  you  know  him,  will  you  refuse  to 
take  my  case?"  she  faltered. 

"Not  at  all,  Mrs.  Leslie — in  fact,  I  shall  do  the 
work  all  the  more  eagerly,  hoping  it  may  all 
prove  to  be  a  mistake." 

"I  too  hope  so,  but  my  heart  is  filled  with 
fears.  I  seem  to  have  lived  years  since  making 
this  discovery.  At  first  I  meant  to  ask  my  hus- 
band plainly  to  explain  it,  but  something  held 
my  tongue — for  my  life  I  could  not — and  only 
as  a  last  resort  have  I  come  to  you." 

"Kindly  write  the  number  of  the  house  here 
— you  know  it,  of  course." 

"Indeed  it  is  burned  on  my  brain  as  with  let- 
ters of  fire,"  and  she  obeyed  him. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Leslie,  you  are  to  leave  this  mat- 
ter in  my  hands  and  think  of  it  as  little  as  you 
can.  At  home  appear  as  natural  as  you  may, 
and  believe  that  I  will  serve  your  interests  faith- 
fully, first,  last  and  all  the  time. 

"Joe  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  yet  if  he  is  a 
villain — which  I  cannot  believe — I  will  discover 
the  proofs  of  it  and  hand  them  to  you." 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  27 

"Mr.  Darrell,  I  thank  you,"  she  said,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"There  is  no  occasion  for  it,  madam — this  is 
business  with  me,  leaving  sentiment  aside — I 
shall  charge  you  my  regular  price  for  such  work; 
but  at  the  same  time  I  honestly  hope  your  hus- 
band will  be  able  to  prove  his  innocence  " 

"Amen!"  she  said,  solemnly. 

At  this  moment  there  came  a  loud  rap  on  the 
door — Mrs.  Leslie  uttered  a  little  scream,  which 
was  pretty  well  muffled  by  the  cobweb  of  a  hand- 
kerchief she  thrust  up  to  her  mouth. 

As  for  Eric  Darrell,  the  detective,  he  glanced 
up  at  the  small  tell-tale  mirror  just  inside  the 
transom  over  the  door — his  face  was  screwed  up 
into  a  pucker,  and  pressing  his  ringer  on  his 
lips  he  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"Here's  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish!  The  man 
who  knocks  is  your  husband,  Mrs.  Leslie." 


CHAPTER  II 

TWO  OF   A    KIND 

The  pretty  little  lady  came  very  near  swoon- 
ing when  she  heard  this. 

Darrell  arose  from  his  chair. 

"Come  with  me  through  the  inner  office,"  he 
said  in  low  tones. 

She  followed  him,  trembling  like  a  leaf,  and 
looking  back  as  though  she  expected  the  door 
to  be  broken  in,  and  an  angry  husband  to  make 
his  appearance  on  the  scene. 

"He  must  have  followed  me — he  will  be  so 
angry — oh!  what  shall  I  do — how  shall  I  look 
him  in  the  face  again?"  she  moaned. 

"He  need  not  see  you  now — here  is  a  door 
that  lets  you  out  into  the  passage  around  the 
corner,  and  you  can  descend  the  stairs  without 
being  discovered.  As  for  looking  him  in  the 
face  again,  you  have  no  reason  to  shun  him,  my 
dear  madam — you  are  innocent  of  wrong-doing 

at  any  rate,    and    if    anybody  is    going  to  be 

28 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  29 

ashamed  let  it  be  him.  Good-bye,  madam,  trust 
me  to  the  utmost." 

She  gave  him  one  pitiful  look  that  haunted 
the  old  bachelor  for  many  day,  and  then,  allow- 
ing her  veil  to  fall  over  her  pretty  face,  passed 
on  toward  the  stairs. 

Meanwhile,  the  knock  on  the  other  door  had 
been  twice  repeated — the  man  without  was  evi- 
dently growing  impatient. 

Mr.  Darrell  walked  over  to  the  door  and 
opened  it. 

"What!  you,  Leslie,  my  boy?  It's  good  for 
sore  eyes  to  see  your  face." 

They  shook  hands  warmly. 

Leslie  walked  in. 

The  detective  had  seen  on  the  instant  that  his 
old-time  friend  was  disturbed — Joe's  counte- 
nance had  a  gloomy  look,  totally  at  variance  to 
the  cheerful  expression  that  generally  marked  it. 

Of  course  Eric  Darrell  wondered  to  what  he 
owed  this  visit. 

Was  it  brought  about  by  the  fact  that  Joe's 
wife  had  just  been  seated  in  the  very  chair  he 
now  threw  his  long  form  upon? 

Since  Joe's  marriage  he  had  seen  very  little 
of  him — their  lines  ran  apart  and  seldom  crossed, 


30  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

yet    they  had    once   been    pretty  good  friends. 

Again  the  detective  closed  the  door  and  fast- 
ened it  against  interruption. 

Whatever  the  cause  of  Leslie's  visit,  he  meant 
to  have  a  quiet  chat  with  him. 

If  the  husband  of  the  pretty  lady  who  had 
just  quitted  his  office  demanded  to  know  why 
Lillian  Leslie  had  visited  him,  he  would  have  to 
confess  the  truth,  but  he  knew  enough  to  keep 
a  close  tongue  until  the  lay  of  the  land  was 
made  manifest. 

Before  sitting  down  himself  he  took  up  a  box 
of  cigars  and  offered  it  to  Joe. 

The  other  looked  at  it  rather  sheepishly  and 
then  declined  with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

"Ah!  sworn  off,  eh?  Something  I  never  ex- 
pected such  an  old  smoker  as  you  to  do;  but 
every  man  to  his  taste.  Now,  old  fellow,  to 
what  am  I  indebted  for  this  visit — a  desire  to 
talk  over  old  times,  or  business?" 

Leslie  seemed  to  swallow  a  lump  in  his  throat, 
and  playing  nervously  with  the  paper-cutter  on 
the  desk — which  was  a  dagger  taken  from  a  no- 
torious assassin  whom  Darrell  had  assisted  to  the 
gallows  years  before,  said  huskily: 

"Eric,  you  are  the  only   man   in  the  world   I 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  31 

would  come  to  with  domestic  troubles.  What 
I  am  about  to  confide  in  you  now  I  do  as  to  a 
friend.  At  the  same  time  I  ask  for  your  assist- 
ance in  a  professional  way." 

Then  he  seemed  lost  in  deep  thought  for  a 
minute,  and  was  no  doubt  collecting  his  en- 
ergies to  speak  to  the  point. 

As  for  Eric  Darrell,  he  surveyed  the  other  in 
deepest  surprise. 

What  was  coming? 

Was  Joe  Leslie  deep  in  the  mire,  and  had  he 
come  to  have  his  old  friend  extricate  him? 

One  thing  seemed  certain — he  did  not  appear 
to  know  that  his  pretty  wife  had  been  in  this 
very  room  less  than  five  minutes  before. 

Believing  this,  the  detective  considered  it  a 
peculiar  freak  of  fate  that  these  two  should  visit 
him  on  the  same  day  and  almost  the  same  hour, 
each  without  the  knowledge  of  the  other. 

At  length  Joe  had  recruited  his  energies  to 
equal  the  occasion. 

He  looked  up. 

The  detective  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair 
and  calmly  observing  him,  wreaths  of  blue  white 
smoke  curling  up  from  his  Havana. 

"Eric,  you  never  met  my  wife?"  he  said. 


32  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

The  other  did  not  by  any  start  betray  himself. 

"That  is  your  fault,  old  man.  You  were 
married  in  Chicago,  and  after  settling  down  here 
you  never  invited  us  old  bachelors  to  visit  you," 
he  replied,  quietly, 

"Forgive  me.  But  see,  here  is  her  photo- 
graph. Take  a  look  at  the  girl  who  captured 
the  man  who  used  to  laugh  at  all  Benedicts." 

Darrell  took  the  picture. 

It  was  the  same  face  he  had  so  recently  sat 
vis-a-vis  with  in  this  very  office,  with  one  par- 
ticular difference  — the  photograph  was  of  a  hap- 
py, loving  girl,  while  the  other  had  been  the 
face  of  an  anxious  woman. 

Mentally  he  noted  this  fact,  while  looking 
long  and  earnestly  at  the  photograph. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  her?" asked  Les- 
lie. 

He  was  a  tall  man,  perhaps  thirty-five  years 
of  age,  not  handsome,  but  with  a  face  that  won 
him  friends  everywhere,  for  Joe  Leslie  had  a 
warm  heart  and  was  ready  to  champion  the 
cause  of  any  poor  devil  in  distress. 

"She's  handsome,  Joe — a  beauty." 

"Anyone  can  see  that — look  deeper,  man." 

"I  can  see  qualities  there  such  as  might  make 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  33 

her  a  wife  to  be  proud  of,  and  whom  any  man 
might  well  hesitate  to  offend." 

At  this  Joe  groaned. 

The  shrewd  detective  thought  he  had  driven 
one  nail  home — that  his  allusion  must  have  hit 
Leslie  in  a  tender  spot — but  for  once  he  made 
a  mistake. 

Just  then  he  was  not  thinking  of  his  own 
shortcomings — that  groan  was  the  result  of 
mental  agony  brought  about  by  something  else. 

"Eric,  I  am  in  trouble, "he said. 

The  other  knew  it  before  he  spoke. 

To  himself  he  was  saying: 

"Now,  here's  a  surprising  thing — I  am  al- 
ready retained  by  the  wife,  and  the  husband 
has  come  to  confess  his  sins.  Shall  I  listen — 
he  must  not  bind  me  to  a  promise  not  to  tell." 

Aloud,  he  said: 

"I'm  sorry  for  that,  Joe.  Tell  me  all  about 
it  and  heaven  knows  I  will  aid  you  all  I  can." 

"Thank  you,  old  friend — I  knew  it  before  you 
spoke — that  was  why  I  finally  determined  to 
come  here  and  unbosom  myself." 

"It's  coming,"  muttered  Darrell,  smiling 
grimly. 

He  fully  expected  to  learn  the  secret  of  that 


34  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

mysterious  house   on    Twenty-seventh    Street. 

"To  think,"  said  Joe,  looking  around  him  at 
the  walls  and  ceiling,  "that  here  in  this  den 
where  I  spent  so  many  careless,  happy  bachelor 
hours  with  you,  I  should  now  be  detailing  the 
tribulations  of  married  life." 

"Singular — of  course,"  nodded  Eric,  appar- 
ently observing  the  ashes  on  the  end  of  his  ci- 
gar, but  all  the  while  watching  Joe's  face. 

"For  of  course,"  Joe  continued,  "what  I  have 
to  say  to  you  concerns — my  wife." 

"Yes." 

The  detective  was  wondering  how  Joe  meant 
to  bring  out  his  confession. 

He  did  not  dream  of  anything  else. 

"You  have  seen  that  face,  Eric" — tapping  the 
photograph — "would  you  say  there  was  any  de- 
ceit there?" 

This  was  something  of  a  staggerer — the  other 
had  not  expected  the  electric  fluid  to  strike  in 
such  a  quarter  at  all. 

"Deceit — in  that  little  woman — well,  I'm  an 
old  bachelor,  Joe,  but  my  judgment  is  generally 
conceded  sound,  and  I  tell  you  your  wife  is  a 
woman  of  a  thousand.  Her  face  speaks  of  puri- 
ty and  charity — one  could  not  look  into  the 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  35 

depths  of  those  eyes  and  not  read  truth  there." 

"Good  heavens,  man!  you  describe  Lillian  as 
I  have  believed  her — one  would  think  you  had 
met  her,"  cried  Leslie,  starting  out  of  his  moody 
fit. 

"A  good  photograph  can  be  easily  read  now- 
adays, my  boy,"  replied  Darrell,  quietly;  at  the 
same  time  conscious  that  he  had  made  a  break 
that  had  better  not  be  repeated. 

Joe  gave  a  great  sigh,  and  resumed  his  de- 
spondent attitude,  nervously  playing  with  the 
paper-cutter. 

"Eric,  perhaps  there  are  men  who  love  their 
wives  better  than  I  do  .mine,  but  I  am  complete- 
ly wrapped  up  in  Lillian,  and  if  I  lost  her  I'd 
go  to  the  dogs  devilish  quick 

"You  know  my  nature  — I'm  not  a  suspicious 
fool,  nor  am  I  constitutionally  jealous,  but  I 
suppose  I  have  a  certain  amount  of  the  latter  in 
my  disposition — every  man  but  an  idiot  has." 

"That's  so.  Remember  Othello's  declara- 
tion about  keeping  a  corner  in  the  object  of  his 
love  for  other  people's  uses.  I  reckon  that's 
the  first  corner  we  have  any  record  of." 

Joe's  face  had  flushed  at  the  reference  made 
by  his  companion. 


36  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Quietly  he  went  on: 

"As  heaven  is  my  judge  I  do  not  wish  to  har- 
bor any  unjust  suspicion  toward  my  wife — I 
would  shield  her  with  my  life  from  the  folly  of 
her  imprudence,  if  such  it  prove  to  be — but  I 
am  a  man,  and  I  cannot  shut  my  eyes  to  certain 
facts  set  before  me.  I  have  done  everything  in 
my  power  to  explain  the  matter  to  myself,  offer- 
ing all  sorts  of  excuses  for  her,  but  it  is  useless, 
and  I  feel  now  that  I  must  know  the  truth  or 
go  crazy." 

"My  dear  fellow,  this  is  indeed  serious." 

"Serious,  Eric — may  you  never  know  the  aw- 
ful feeling  that  has  pressed  upon  my  heart  dur- 
ing the  last  few  weeks." 

"Has  it  been  that  long?" 

"Yes,  for  two  weeks  I  have  noticed  a  differ- 
ence in  Lillian — she  has  hardly  looked  me  in  the 
face  at  all.  Poor  child,  she  is  not  accustomed 
to  deceit,  and  a  secret  weighs  upon  her." 

Darrell  came  near  laughing,  as  he  believed  he 
had  the  key  to  the  puzzle.  Unaccustomed  to 
deceit,  forsooth — when  it  was  his  own  myste- 
rious actions  that  had  disturbed  Lillian. 

"Two  weeks,  you  say,  Joe?" 

"Well,    I    knew  something    about  it  before 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  37 

then.  Accident  revealed  it  to  me.  I  will  tell 
you  all,  and  you  can  judge  for  yourself. 

"You  know  we  live  in  a  comfortable  little 
house  up  on  Eighty-sixth  Street.  I  generally 
spend  my  days  down-town  at  business,  but  I 
had  a  call  up-town  one  morning,  and  my  cab- 
man drove  me  past  my  own  house — I  took  a  cab 
because  the  party  I  wished  to  see  lived  at  a 
point  inconvenient  to  the  elevated,  and  besides 
I  had  a  bushel  of  papers,  more  or  less,  to  take 
him. 

"While  passing  my  house  I  naturally  looked 
in. 

"At  that  moment  Lillian  was  opening  the  door 
and  a  fine-looking  man  entered  whom  she  seemed 
to  greet  cordially.  I  wondered  who  he  was,  but 
forgot  all  about  him  until  I  came  home  in  the 
evening.  Somehow  his  face  came  up  again  be- 
fore me — I  waited  to  see  if  she  would  speak, 
and  even  made  an  opportunity  for  her  to  tell  me 
of  her  visitor — she  said  nothing  and  I  thought 
looked  a  trifle  confused. 

"Eric,  believe  me,  I  dropped  the  matter 
then  and  there — who  could  look  into  those  eyes 
— well-springs  of  truth  as  you  have  just  ob- 
served— and  believe  deceit  rested  there? 


38  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"The  next  day  I  again  found  it  necessary  to 
use  the  cab  in  going  to-  the  house  of  my  client, 
and,  as  I  passed  my  own  dwelling,  I  was  some- 
what nettled  to  see  the  same  military-booking 
gentleman  ascending  the  steps. 

"I  looked  at  the  time — it  was  ten  exactly,  the 
same  hour  as  on  the  preceding  day. 

"Again,  that  evening,  I  gave  Lillian  the  op- 
portunity to  tell  me  of  her  visitor,  but  she  made 
no  mention  of  it. 

"Eric,  the  demon  of  jealousy  had  his  birth  in 
my  heart  in  that  bitter  hour — my  wife  had  a 
secret  from  me — she  was  receiving  clandestinely 
a  gentleman  whom  I  did  not  even  know. 

"I  battled  with  the  fever,  heaven  knows  how 
terribly,  but  it  conquered  me,  and  although  I 
despised  myself  for  doing  so  despicable  an  act 
I  set  about  watching  Lillian." 

The  large  man  buried  his  face  in  his  hands 
and  groaned  aloud  in  his  suffering. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  TELL-TALE  SCRAP  OF  PAPER 

Darrell  had  by  this  time  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  he  was  entering  upon  one  of  the  oddest 
cases  in  his  experience. 

He  had  his  sympathies  aroused  also,  and  while 
he  generally  worked  for  conviction,  in  this  in- 
stance it  would  be  otherwise,  his  desire  being  to 
prove  the  parties  innocent. 

Presently  Leslie  went  on: 

"I  pretended  to  go  to  my  office,  but,  instead, 
hovered  in  the  neighborhood,  sometimes  in  the 
drug-store  on  the  corner. 

"Thus  I  have  discovered  that  regularly  every 
morning  at  ten  o'clock,  Saturday  omitted,  this 
fine-looking  foreign  gentleman  enters  my  house, 
and  the  door  closes  behind  him. 

"At  eleven  he  appears  again — it  is  always  my 
wife  who  lets  him  in  and  sees  him  to  the  door. 

"Eric,  this  thing  is   killing   me — sooner  than 

believe  Lillian  could  be  false  to  me  I  would  dis- 

39 


40  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

credit  my  own  mother;  and  yet  here  is  some- 
thing very,  very  strange — something  that  must 
be  explained  before  my  peace  of  mind  comes 
back  to  me  again.  In  a  few  words,  I  want  you  to 
find  out  who  this  man  is,  and  why  he  calls  to 
see  my  wife  invariably  at  ten  o'clock  when  I  am 
supposed  to  be  down-town  money-making,  and 
why  she  has  never  breathed  one  syllable  of  all 
this  to  me." 

"I  will  do  it,  Joe,  for  old  friendship's  sake, 
and  I  most  heartily  pray  it  may  turn  out  all 
right." 

"Oh!  I  haven't  any  doubt  of  that.  My  dear 
fellow,  don't  imagine  for  an  instant  that  I  sus- 
pect my  wife  of  anything  wrong,  but — well,  you 
see — hang  it,  Eric,  I  must  know  the  truth,  and 
if  my  thoughts  have  wronged  Lillian  I  shall  go 
down  on  my  knees  before  the  little  woman." 

On  his  part,  Mr.  Darrell  had,  while  Joe  was 
speaking,  conceived  a  sudden  idea  that  would 
possibly  explain  the  matter. 

He  did  not  mention  it,  because  the  explanation 
hinged  upon  his  other  client's  case,  but  he  kept 
it  in  mind  all  the  same. 

It  was  to  this  effect: 

Perhaps  Lillian  had  sought  the  advice  of  some 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  41 

other  detective  before  coming  to  him,  and  it  was 
this  party  calling  at  a  certain  hour  every  day  to 
deliver  his  report,  whom  Joe  had  seen. 

Possibly  little  or  no  progress  had  been  made, 
and  hence  she  had  finally  determined  to  change, 
just  as  a  patient,  becoming  dissatisfied  with  his 
doctor,  calls  in  another  physician. 

Luck  alone  had  brought  her  to  his  office — 
perhaps  it  was  the  sweet  little  cherub  that 
watches  over  the  affairs  of  lovers. 

At  any  rate  it  was  a  piece  of  good  fortune  for 
all  parties  concerned. 

He  proceeded  to  question  Joe,  desiring  to 
learn  all  he  could  of  the  case. 

"You  say  you  had  never  seen  the  gentleman 
before?" 

"Never." 

"Not  in  your  wife's  album?" 

"You  mean  that  he  might  be  one  of  her  old 
beaux — no,  not  even  there.  He  is  a  stranger 
to  me." 

"But  if  you  met  him  you  would  know  him?" 

"Well,  rather." 

"Can  you  describe  him  to  me?" 

"I  can  do  better — show  you  a  picture  of  him 
just  as  he  leaves  my  front  door."  With  that  he 


42  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

held  out  a  card,  upon  which  was  a  round  pho- 
tograph, or  rather  picture,  which  Eric  saw  had 
been  taken  with  a  Kodak  camera,  just  coming 
into  general  use  at  that  time. 

The  scene  was  a  door-step  with  a  number  over 
the  door — a  man  was  descending — the  lower  part 
of  his  body  could  not  be  seen,  but  his  body  and 
head  were  well  taken.  He  carried  something 
under  his  arm  like  a  flat  book. 

Eric  Darrell  studied  the  face  as  well  as  he 
could  upon  such  a  small  surface — he  wanted  to 
know  it  again. 

Then  he  looked  further. 

Just  above,  a  lady  stood  outside  the  door,  as 
if  seeing  the  gentleman  depart.  It  was  Lillian 
Leslie  without  a  doubt. 

"How  in  the  deuce  did  you  get  this?"  he  asked 
in  some  surprise,  "it's  as  clever  a  piece  of  busi- 
ness as  I  know  of." 

"I  hired  a  young  fellow  to  do  it  for  me.  He 
took  this  man  several  times  afterward.  See, 
there  is  one  that  shows  his  face  better,  because 
there  is  little  else — it  was  taken  close." 

Darrell  examined  this  picture  also. 

"Seems  to  me  I've  seen  this  man  on  the  street 
or  somewhere — I  can't  just  place  him  though," 
he  muttered. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  43 

"Is  there  anything  more  you  wish  to  tell  me, 
Joe,"  he  asked  aloud. 

"  Unfortunately — yes. " 

"Proceed." 

"It  seemed  as  though  fate  had  been  pleased 
to  conspire  against  my  peace  of  mind.  I  picked 
up  a  piece  of  paper  from  the  floor  to  toss  into 
the  grate  in  the  library  when  certain  words 
caught  my  eye,  and  instead  I  put  it  in  my  pock- 
et." 

"When  was  this?" 

"Last  evening." 

"Have  you  the  paper  still?" 

"Yes." 

"Let  me  see  it,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

"Certainly  not.  I  want  everything  to  be 
placed  before  you  now." 

" Everything  but  your  own  secret,"  thought 
the  detective,  as  he  took  the  paper. 

It  was  evidently  a  portion  of  a  torn  note  and 
had  been  twisted  around. 

Darrell  smoothed  it  flat  and  then  read  in  a 
woman's  fine  chirography: 

" — we  will  hope  for  the  best.  At  any  rate,  fair 
Lillian,  your  secret  shall  never  be  betrayed  by 
your  sincere  friend,  BARBARA. 

"P.   S.     Be  sure  and  burn  this.  B." 


44  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  asked  Joe. 

"It  has  a  peculiar  look.  One  thing  is  certain 
— Lillian  made  a  mistake — she  did  not  burn  it 
up." 

"But  tore  it  to  pieces  instead." 

"You  found  it  in  your  library?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  there  a  waste  paper  basket  there?" 

"Yes,  but  we  throw  papers  in  the  grate  and 
when  they  accumulate  touch  a  match  to  them." 

"Perhaps  you  might  find  the  balance  of  this 
letter." 

"In  the  grate?" 

"Yes." 

"That  would  be  impossible." 

"Why  so?" 

"Unfortunately,  one  of  the  first  things  I  did 
upon  arriving  home  yesterday  evening  was  to 
apply  a  match  to  the  papers  in  the  grate,  and 
they  have  all  been  consumed." 

Eric  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That's  hard  luck,  I  take  it,  but  men  of  my 
line  never  cry  over  spilt  milk.  What's  the  use? 
Now,  regarding  this  scrap — it  is  signed  Bar- 
bara. Have  you  any  idea  who  the  author  is?" 

"Yes,  certainly — a   young   married  lady   who 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  45 

lives  back  of  us.  I  have  always  entertained 
much  respect  for  Mrs.  Goodwin,  and  am  sur- 
prised to  think  she  would  enter  into  a  conspiracy 
with  Lillian  to  deceive  me." 

The  detective  hardly  knew  what  to  think. 

Here  was  a  man  whom  he  had  known  and 
considered  a  first-rate  fellow  in  the  past,  grieving 
over  the  fact  that  his  wife  was  keeping  some- 
thing from  him,  when,  all  the  time,  he  was  nurs- 
ing a  secret  within  his  guilty  heart. 

What  was  Darrell  to  make  of  it? 

Those  who  live  in  glass  houses  should  be  care- 
ful how  they  throw  stones. 

"It's  pretty  hard,  Joe,  I  admit,  but  when  it 
comes  to  secrets,  who  among  us  is  above  re- 
proach ?" 

"Eh?" 

Joe  Leslie  seems  to  color  up  in  a  manner  al- 
together unnecessary. 

"You,  for  instance,  old  man — I  warrant  you 
do  lots  of  little  things  that  you  would  hardly 
care  for  your  wife  to  know.  But" — seeing  the 
other's  evident  confusion — "let  that  pass.  I 
will  undertake  to  clear  up  this  mystery  for  you, 
Joe,  as  speedily  as  possible." 

"What  shall  1  do?" 


46  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Try  and  act  as  though  your  suspicions  were 
not  aroused — do  everything  just  as  you  would 
under  ordinary  circumstances.  Even  treat  this 
false  friend  Barbara  warmly — anything  but  to 
give  our  game  away  in  the  start." 

"I  presume  I  can  go  on  in  the  same  old  rut, 
provided  it  is  not  for  long." 

"I'll  promise  you  that  the  whole  thing  will 
soon  be  cleared  up.  There  is  a  screw  loose 
somewhere,  and  I'm  going  to  find  it." 

Again  Joe  blushed  at  the  emphasis  laid  on  that 
word,  though  Eric  was  not  looking  at  him,  and 
it  did  not  seem  as  though  he  meant  any  per- 
sonal reflection. 

A  guilty  conscience,  Darrell  concluded,  needs 
no  accuser,  and  this  man  feels  the  finger  of  sus- 
picion pointed  at  him,  though  he  cannot  tell 
from  whom  it  comes. 

Used  to  reading  human  nature,  the  detective 
knows  guilt  when  he  sees  it. 

Although  he  refrains  from  making  any  remark 
upon  the  subject,  he  is  in  reality  quite  out  of. 
patience  with  his  friend  who  has  thus  early  be- 
trayed his  trust — he  could  never  have  believed 
it  of  Joe  Leslie — he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
himself,  doing  anything  to  make  such  a  sweet 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  47 

woman  unhappy,  and  if  it  turns  out  to  be  so  the 
detective  is  determined  that  he  shall  eat  the 
husks  of  remorse,  drinking  the  bitter  cup  to  the 
very  dregs. 

"Let  me  keep  these,  Joe?"  holding  up  the 
pictures  and  the  scrap  of  paper. 

"Certainly,  and  I  most  earnestly  pray  they 
may  be  the  means  of  proving  Lillian's  innocence. 
My  life  will  be  wrecked  if  she  proves  false." 

He  did  not  seem  to  think  of  what  a  position 
his  own  secret  action  placed  him  in. 

"We  will  hope  for  the  best,  Joe." 

"Whatever  you  discover  must  be  a  secret  be- 
tween myself  and  you.  I  shall  in  my  own  way 
decide  what  must  be  done." 

Darrell  looked  at  his  face  while  he  spoke. 

He  found  nothing  vindictive  there — instead, 
he  saw  a  look  of  deep  pain. 

To  himself  he  thought : 

"If  I  had  done  anything  wrong,  I  would  like 
to  be  tried  by  a  judge  like  Joe  Leslie — he  would 
be  merciful.  If  his  wife  has  erred,  he  is  not  the 
man  to  shoot  her  down —  he  would  fight  like  a 
tiger  in  her  defense — but  I  believe  under  such 
painful  circumstances  Joe  would  cry  like  a  baby 
— and  forgive  her." 


48  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

That  was  his  estimate  of  the  man  he  had 
known  so  long — he  forgot  just  then  that  Joe  was 
also  under  a  cloud,  and  that  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  life  that  needed  the  calcium  light  of 
an  investigation  thrown  upon  it. 

Thus  the  detective's  opinion  went  up  and 
down  like  a  shuttle-cock — he  hardly  knew  how 
to  take  this  good-natured  giant. 

The  latter  was  plainly  ill  at  ease,  and  having 
said  all  he  desired,  picked  up  his  hat  to  go. 

"Sure  you  won't  smoke,  Joe?" 

Another  wistful  glance  and  a  shake  of  the 
head. 

"I  promised  Lillian  I  would  never  smoke  an- 
other cigar  until  she  gave  me  voluntary  per- 
mission; and  as  she  hates  tobacco  smoke  I  pre- 
sume I  must  keep  my  promise  always.  That  is 
one  of  the  little  penalties  a  man  sometimes  has 
to  pay  when  he  captures  a  darling.  You  can't 
have  your  pudding  and  eat  it  too—  so  some  of 
our  bachelor  freedom  must  go." 

"Well,  the  chains  are  golden  ones,  forged  by 
love,  and  if  ever  I  meet  a  little  woman  like  your 
wife,  by  Jove!  I'll  be  tempted  to  have  her  forge 
some." 

"You  talk  as  though  Lillian  and  you  were  old 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  49 

friends.  You  must  meet  her,  Eric — I'll  be  proud 
to  have  you  know  her — when  this  thing  is  set- 
tled." 

"All  right,  my  boy,  I'll  keep  you  to  your  word. 
Perhaps  she  may  have  a  sister,  you  see." 

"She  has  that,  and  very  much  like  Lillian." 

"Consider  the  thing  fixed  and  invite  me  when 
her  sister  is  on  from  Chicago." 

"I  certainly  will — what  did  I  do  with  my  hat 
— ah,  here  it  is  on  the  desk — I  will  see  you  again 
to-morrow,  Eric — " 

He  ceased  talking  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence, 
bent  his  head  down,  for  the  light  was  gradually 
fading  in  the  detective's  office,  and  then  turning 
suddenly,  said: 

"Hello!  Darrell,  old  man,  where  did  you  get 
that — who's  been  writing  down  the  number  of 
my  Twenty-seventh  Street  house?" 

Darrell  had  forgotten  to  remove  the  paper 
upon  which  Lillian  had  written  the  address,  with 
her  gloves  on,  and  Joe  Leslie  now  held  it  in  his 
hand. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  HOUSE  ON   TWENTY-SEVENTH  STREET 

This  was  what  might  with  considerable  pro- 
priety be  called  a  contretemps. 

If  Joe  Leslie  recognized  the  writing  as  that 
of  his  wife,  the  game  was  up. 

He  had  no  doubt  had  many  letters  from  her 
during  their  courtship  days,  and  knew  the  style 
of  the  chirography  well. 

One  thing  favored  Darrell. 

Any  one  who  has  endeavored  to  write  with 
gloves  on  will  bear  witness  to  the  fact  that  as  a 
general  rule  they  could  not  swear  to  their  own 
hand  when  cold. 

So  the  chances  were  about  ten  to  one  that 
Joe  could  not  recognize  the  hand. 

The  detective  was  ready  to  accept  the  chances. 

He  maintained  his  cool  demeanor,  through  the 
emergency. 

That  was  the  result  of  education  in  his  busi- 
ness. Raising  his  eyebrows  with  an  expression 

of  surprise,  he  said: 

50 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  j      <yy 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  house  is  yours, 
friend  Joe?" 

"That's  just  what  I  do!" 

The  detective  was  looking  for  signs  of  suspi- 
cion about  the  pther. 

Surprise  and  curiosity  he  plainly  saw,  but  it 
was  not  so  easy  to  discover  the  other. 

"Come,  now,  what  have  you  been  looking  up 
my  house  for?" 

"On  my  honor,  Joe,  I've  never  set  eyes  on 
the  building  and  don't  know  whether  it's  stone 
or  brick,  three  story  or  two." 

"Then  what  in  the  deuce — ?" 

"Patience!  Is  your  house  in  the  market?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  perhaps  it  is  one  of  a  number  given  me 
by  a  real  estate  agent  to  look  up  for  a  friend  of 
mine.  I'll  preserve  the  slip,"  taking  it  from 
Joe  and  folding  it  up. 

"It  looks  like  a  woman's  writing." 

"Yes,  all  writing  does  after  a  man  has  fallen 
into  the  habit  of  looking  for  letters  day  by  day 
— letters  that  are  delayed — Come,  you  married 
men  are  very  suspicious." 

With  that  he  dexterously  whipped  the  sub- 
ject around  and  began  talking  about  something 


52  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

of  decided  interest,  so  that  Joe,  completely  hood- 
winked, speedily  forgot  about  the  singular  little 
coincidence  that  had  brought  this  address  under 
the  eyes  of  the  owner  of  the  house. 

He  was  not  quite  done  with  Joe  yet. 

"You  must  own  a  good  deal  of  property  in 
and  around  the  city,  Joe  ?" 

"I  do — property  left  to  me  by  my  mother." 

"You  have  no  need  to  work." 

"Well,  perhaps  not.  Some  day  when  I  take 
the  notion  I  mean  to  figure  up  my  income  from 
this  property,  and  if  it's  a  good  sum,  by  Jove! 
I'll  fling  business  to  the  winds  and  take  my  little 
wife  to  Europe  for  a  year — that  is,  if — " 

Darrell  did  not  let  him  finish. 

"Why,  man  alive,  you  talk  as  though  you 
didn't  hardly  know  what  property  you  owned, 
yourself." 

"Neither  do  I — it's  all  come  to  me  since  I 
married,  and  I've  been  so  much  taken  up  with 
my  wife  that  I  haven't  found  time  to  attend  to 
it  as  I  should." 

Darrell  winked  hard. 

He  knew  certain  facts  that  would  seem  to  in- 
dicate that  Joe  found  time  to  spend  an  hour 
every  afternoon  with  some  one  besides  Lillian. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  53 

If  so  then  this  was  rank  perjury. 

What  was  he  to  think  of  a  hypocrite? 

"Jove!  that's  a  queer  case.  I  don't  suppose 
your  wife  has  any  idea  of  where  your  property 
lies — never  saw  such  places  as  this  Twenty-sev- 
enth Street  house,  for  instance?" 

"Heavens!  no.  That  house  is  an  eyesore  to 
me.  The  neighborhood  is  not  a  good  one  and 
I  will  only  let  it  to  decent  tenants.  No,  Lillian 
will  never  know  I  own  a  house  there." 

Darrell  was  satisfied. 

He  had  made  his  point. 

Soon  after  Joe  bade  him  good  evening,  and 
hurried  away. 

It  was  not  far  from  five  o'clock. 

Darrell  snatched  a  disguise  from  a  hook  and 
changed  his  appearance  in  one  minute. 

All  he  wanted  was  to  effect  such  a  change 
that  Joe  might  not  recognize  him. 

Then  he  left  the  office  and  bolted  down  stairs 
after  his  friend. 

Joe  was  discovered  in  the  crowd,  making  his 
way  toward  the  elevated  station,  and  knowing 
his  destination  Darrell  arrived  there  first. 

They  got  in  the  same  car. 

At  this  time  in  the  evening  it  was  pretty 
crowded  and  both  had  to  stand  up. 


54  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

At  Twenty-seventh  Street  a  number  left  the 
train  and  those  we  follow  with  the  rest. 

Darrell  observed  Joe  eagerly  consult  his  watch. 

"He's  late  this  evening  and  no  doubt  expects 
a  scolding,"  was  his  mental  comment  upon  see- 
ing the  frown  upon  Joe's  usually  good-natured 
face. 

The  giant  walked  along  so  fast  that  Eric  could 
hardly  keep  his  place  behind  him. 

They  approached  the  fatal  number. 

Truly  Joe  acted  like  a  guilty  wretch — he 
glanced  up  and  down  the  street  as  if  to  make 
sure  no  acquaintance  was  passing. 

Deception  was  a  novelty  to  him — this  was 
the  first  time  Darrell  had  ever  seen  his  friend 
acting  in  a  mean  role. 

When  they  reached  the  steps  Joe  ascended 
them,  took  a  key  out  of  his  pocket  and  deliber- 
ately opened  the  front  door. 

The  detective  was  passing  at  the  time,  but  his 
quick  glance  failed  to  reveal  anything  of  inter- 
est. 

Evening  was  coming  on,  and  the  shadows  of 
the  approaching  night  had  evidently  gathered 
in  the  hall  of  the  house --he  could  just  see  the 
glass  globe  of  the  hanging  gas  jet  in  the  hall, 
but  it  was  not  lighted. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  55 

For  that  matter  there  was  no  light  about  the 
house  at  all,  though  the  neighbors  were  begin- 
ning to  illuminate  their  houses. 

Passing  down  the  street  a  little  distance,  Eric 
Darrell  crossed  over,  and  came  up  the  other 
side. 

He  now  noticed  that  there  was  a  light  in  the 
second  story  front  room,  though  almost  ready 
to  swear  it  had  not  been  there  previous  to  the 
entrance  of  the  proprietor. 

The  inside  blinds  were  closed  in  such  a  way 
that  Darrell  could  see  nothing. 

He  was  deeply  interested. 

Whatever  this  strange  mystery  attached  to 
Joe's  daily  visit  here  might  mean,  Darrell  could 
not  forget  that  the  other  was  his  friend. 

He  would  act  as  a  surgeon  might  when  one 
whom  he  regarded  highly  was  brought  before 
him  for  attention — his  fingers  would  be  very 
tender,  but  the  cruel  knife  must  do  its  duty. 

He  was  walking  slowly  along  when  he  almost 
ran  into  a  female  who  stood  on  the  edge  of  the 
pavement  opposite  the  house. 

Her  black  attire  and  the  veil  she  wore  attract- 
ed his  attention  immediately. 

Besides,  she  was  looking  upward    toward  the 


56  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

windows  where  the  glimmer  of  light  could  be 
seen. 

A  suspicion  flashed  into  his  mind. 

He  touched  the  arm  of  the  lady  in  black. 

"Lillian — Mrs.  Leslie,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

A  cry  came  from  under  the  veil. 

"Who  speaks  to  me?"  gasped  the  lady. 

"It  is  I — Eric  Darrell.  This  is  no  place  for 
a  lady,  especially  at  such  an  hour.  You  may 
be  insulted  here." 

"But  he  is  here — Joe,  my  husband,  and  where 
he  is  his  wife  should  not  be  afraid  to  go,"  she 
said  with  some  bitterness. 

"Theoretically  true,  madam,  but  there  are 
lots  of  places  in  this  wicked  city  where  men  daily 
pass  and  ladies  dare  not  go.  You  promised  to 
leave  this  to  me  and  you  must  keep  your  word. 
Take  my  arm  and  let  me  see  you  to  the  elevated 
station." 

.She  might  have  rebelled,  but  there  was  a  touch 
of  gentle  but  firm  authority  in  his  tone,  and  be- 
ing a  woman  she  yielded,  knowing  he  was  right. 

On  the  way  to  the  elevated  station  she  was 
silent,  but  finally,  upon  reaching  the  steps,  she 
turned  to  her  companion. 

"Mr.  Darrell,  does  my  husband  know  that  I 
have  sought  your  advice?" 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  57 

So  intensely  interested  was  she  in  the  answer, 
that  she  even  held  her  breath. 

"To  my  knowledge,  Mrs.  Leslie,  Joe  does  not 
even  suspect  you  of  ever  having  seen  me." 

"Thank  heaven,"  she  almost  gasped,  a  world 
of  relief  showing  itself  upon  her  face,  for,  the 
better  to  look  at  her  companion  when  expecting 
his  answer,  she  had  brushed  her  veil  aside. 

"You  need  not  borrow  trouble  on  that  score. 
Act  naturally,  as  though  you  suspected  nothing 
and  had  no  reason  to  evade  his  eye." 

She  moved  uneasily  at  his  words. 

Darrell  had  spoken  them  with  a  purpose,  just 
as  the  surgeon  probes  for  the  bullet  before  mak- 
ing any  attempt  to  extract  it. 

He  believed  he  had  met  with  a  certain  share 
of  success  too. 

"What  did  he  want  with  you?"  she  asked,  as 
if  to  cover  her  own  confusion. 

"Merely  a  matter  of  business." 

"Did  he  mention  me?" 

"He  said  I  must  come  up  and  meet  you  some- 
time— whatever  this  may  turn  out,  Mrs.  Leslie, 
I  know  Joe  fairly  worships  you — never  doubt 
that  fact.  Some  things  seem  hard  to  put  to- 
gether, but  when  the  truth  shines  upon  them 
they  will  be  found  very  simple." 


58  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Like  Columbus  and  the  egg,  for  example." 

"Yes,  indeed.  Now,  if  at  any  time  you  and 
I  should  meet  in  Joe's  presence,  don't  forget  to 
treat  me  as  a  stranger." 

"I  will  not." 

"Then  I  shall  say  good  evening,  and  as  a  last 
word,  advise  you  to  leave  this  to  me." 

"I  shall,  Mr.    Darrell." 

She  flitted  up  the  station  stairs  and  Darrell, 
with  a  long  sigh,  turned  down  the  street  again. 

Somehow  the  pretty  wife  of  his  friend  quite 
fascinated  him,  and  he  found  himself  wishing 
the  sister  would  be  like  her. 

Walking  down  the  street,  he  soon  reached  his 
old  stamping  ground. 

The  light  burned  in  the  second  story  room 
and  he  believed  Joe  had  not  left  the  house. 

For  perhaps  ten  minutes  things  went  on  this 
way. 

Then  the  light  suddenly  vanished. 

A  minute  later  Joe  Leslie  came  out. 

Darrell  listened  intently  to  see  if  he  spoke  to 
any  one  at  the  door  but  a  wagon  rattling  by  pre- 
vented his  making  sure. 

Then  Joe  descended  the  steps  and  set  briskly 
off  for  th3  elevated  station. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  59 

The  detective  did  not  follow  him. 

He  desired  to  do  a  little  work  around  that 
region,  and  knew  Joe  was  bound  for  home. 

The  house  seemed  to  be  dark  and  deserted, 
but  others  were  in  the  same  condition,  the  shades 
being  drawn  and  shutters  closed. 

New  York  people,  many  of  them,  act  as 
though  their  houses  were  meant  to  be  dungeons, 
being  hermetically  sealed  to  shut  out  the  light. 

Darrell  surveyed  the  building  a  few  minutes, 
crossed  over,  looked  at  it  more  closely,  started 
up  the  steps,  then  shook  his  head  negatively. 

"Not  yet — I'll  wait  a  little,"  he  muttered. 

Glancing  up  and  down  the  street  he  saw  a 
small  grocery  store  on  the  corner. 

People  must  eat,  and  these  venders  of  daily 
provisions  generally  know  more  about  those  who 
live  in  the  neighborhood  than  any  other  class. 

The  gossip  and  small  talk  of  the  street  passes 
current  here,  and  the  proprietor  hears  all. 

So  Darrell  made  for  the  grocery. 

It  was  not  a  very  extensive  establishment — 
the  owner  and  his  clerk  were  not  busy,  and 
Dairell,  picking  out  the  former,  asked: 

"Can  you  tell  me  who  lives  at  No — ?" 

The  man  looked  at  him  with  a  smile. 


60  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"A  young  woman  named  Mrs.  Lester,  whose 
husband  I  believe  is  in  California — she  was  in 
here  once  or  twice — quite  a  fine-looking  lady," 
returned  the  groceryman. 

"Thanks,"  replied  the  detective,  turning  and 
leaving  the  store  as  suddenly  as  he  entered. 

"Jacob,  what  number  did  he  ask  about  ?"  said 
the  proprietor,  turning  to  his  clerk. 

The  boy  gave  it,  at  which  the  other  whistled. 

"That's  what  they  call  a  bull  on  me.  I  was 
five  numbers  out  of  the  way.  But  let  it  pass- 
He  didn't  want  to  buy  nothing." 

The  blunder  was  destined  to  give  Darrell 
trouble  however. 


• 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  MAN  DRESSED  AS  A  BULL  FIGHTER 

When  Eric  Darrell  left  the  little  grocery  on 
the  corner,  it  was  with  a  bad  feeling  at  his  heart 

It  seemed  as  though  a  cold,  clammy  hand 
had  suddenly  come  in  contact  with  that  member 
of  his  anatomy,  and  chilled  it. 

Could  this  thing  be? 

If  Joe  Leslie  turned  out  to  be  that  moral  leper, 
a  bigamist,  Darrell  believed  he  would  never  put 
any  trust  in  human  nature  again. 

Did  it  not  look  like  it? 

Nothing  was  lacking. 

Good  heavens!  even  the  names  were  almost 
alike — Leslie  and  Lester. 

He  was  horrified — dazed— dumfounded. 

Then  his  teeth  came  together  with  a  snap,  and 
he  swore  he  would  solve  this  mystery — the  man 
might  be  living  two  lives — others  had  done  it 
before — perhaps  many  in  New  York  are  doing 
it  to-day 


6a  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

In  his  time  Darrell  had  met  with  just  such 
cases  as  this,  and  he  believed  his  experience  jus- 
tified him  in  solving  the  puzzle. 

So  her  husband  was  in  California. 

It  was  a  likely  story. 

California  must  be  very  near  by  if  he  could 
drop  in  six  times  a  week. 

He  passed  the  house  again  and  found  that 
there  were  still  no  signs  of  light. 

Evidently  those  who  lived  there,  perhaps  en- 
joying the  luxuries  of  the  season,  knew  how  to 
hide  their  light  under  a  bushel. 

Darrell  remembered  what  Joe  had  said— he 
had  long  since  despaired  of  renting  the  house, 
and  probably  did  not  try  very  hard. 

Then  again  about  his  income — no  wonder  he 
did  not  know  how  he  stood  if  he  had  to  keep 
two  separate  establishments  running. 

They  might  do  that  economically  out  in  Salt 
Lake  City  among  the  Mormons  but  it  is  quite 
an  expensive  luxury  in  New  York. 

So  the  detective  made  his  way  down  to  Twenty- 
third  Street  and  entering  a  dairy  kitchen  where 
a  thousand  were  being  served  to  the  music  of 
an  orchestra,  had  his  dinner. 

He  took  his  time  over  it,  read  the  evening 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WFE  63 

paper,  and  when  he  finally  passed  out  it  was 
well  on  to  eight  o'clock. 

Then  he  smoked  a  cigar  and  watched  the 
passers  by  for  half  an  hour  more. 

Then  he  sauntered  away. 

At  nine  o'clock  he  found  himself  one  of  a  lit- 
tle crowd  gathered  at  the  door  of  a  hall. 

A  masquerade  was  to  take  place  here,  and  as 
carriage  after  carriage  drove  up,  depositing 
nymphs  and  devils,  cavaliers  and  knights,  upon 
the  pavement,  the  crowd  laughed  in  a  good- 
natured  way. 

Some  of  the  rougher  element  might  have  in- 
dulged in  jeers  or  remarks  that  would  have 
brought  on  trouble,  but  for  their  fear  of  the  law, 
which  was  represented  by  two  stalwart  police- 
men, armed  with  their  long  night  sticks  which 
are  a  dread  to  the  heathen  of  the  slums. 

Darrell  was  interested  too,  and  stood  with 
the  rest,  looking  on. 

While  thus  engaged,  a  gentleman  and  lady 
left  a  hack  and  walked  toward  the  entrance. 

He  represented  a  Spanish  bull  fighter,  and 
with  his  splendid  figure  made  a  remarkably  good 
matador,  while  his  companion,  as  a  lady  of 
cards,  caused  a  ripple  of  admiration  among  the 
lookers-on. 


64  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Both  were  fully  masked,  and,  having  wraps 
over  their  costumes,  only  a  portion  of  the  latter 
were  seen ;  but  it  was  evident  that  the  lady  was 
possessed  of  a  lovely  figure,  her  arms  were 
rounded  and  perfect,  while  her  neck,  glimpses 
of  which  could  be  seen,  was  dazzlingly  white, 
and  royally  built. 

Darrell    looked  at  her  with  interest. 

Then  his  eyes  fell  on  her  escort. 

He  started. 

Surely  that  figure  was  owned  by  none  other 
than  Joe  Leslie. 

What  was  he  doing  at  the  ball  ? 

Was  this  his  wife? 

Of  course  it  must  be — the  figure  and  beautiful 
neck  corresponded  with  what  Darrell  remem- 
bered of  Mrs.  Leslie. 

Still,  he  could  not  help  but  think  it  odd,  *  even 
at  that  brief  moment,  for  Joe  to  bring  his  lovely 
wife  here  to  this  ball. 

True,  it  was  a  respectable  affair,  and  many 
good  people  attended  it,  but  none  of  the  first 
families  in  New  York  would  drearn  of  being  seen 
at  the  public  masquerade — at  least  if  they  came 
they  went  away  without  unmasking. 

As  the  couple  passed  him  he  could  not  resist 
saying  aloud: 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  65 

"Hallo!    Joe!" 

The  man  seemed  to  start,  and  muttered  some- 
thing to  his  companion,  at  which  she  laughed, 
but  he  did  not  look  around  to  see  who  had 
spoken. 

Others  were  following  them. 

Darrell  stood  a  while  longer,  and  then  left 
the  scene. 

Somehow  or  other  he  was  troubled — he  knew 
not  exactly  why. 

If  that  was  Lillian  with  her  husband,  it  was 
all  well  and  good — although  surprised  at  Joe 
taking  his  wife  to  such  a  carnival,  so  long  as  her 
husband  was  with  her  it  was  all  right 

But  was  it  Lillian? 

This  thought  kept  crowding  into  his  brain. 

He  could  not  expel  it. 

Atfer  a  little  he  became  angry  with  himself 
for  brooding  over  the  matter  so. 

"Hang  it,  I  can  settle  the  matter  easily,"  he 
muttered,  as  he  found  himself  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  leading  to  the  elevated  station. 

So  up  he  ran. 

It  was  not  a  great  while  later  when  he  found 
himself  walking  along  the  street  on  which  the 
Leslies  lived. 


66  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

He  had  never  seen  their  house  before,  but 
having  the  number  speedily  found  it. 

Of  course  it  was  one  of  a  row.  How  neat 
and  clean  everything  looked  up  in  this  region 
when  compared  with  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Twenty-seventh  Street  house. 

His  sympathies  naturally  ran  in  favor  of  Lil- 
lian— he  seemed  to  believe  she  was  the  more  in- 
nocent of  Joe's  dupes — provided  the  case  was 
really  as  bad  as  it  seemed. 

Making  sure  he  had  the  right  number,  as  the 
houses  were  built  pretty  much  alike,  he  ran  up 
the  steps  and  pulled  the  bell. 

A  minute  later  a  girl  came  to  the  door. 

"I  wish  to  see  Mr.    Leslie." 

"He  is  out,  sir." 

"Ah!" 

Darrell's  suspicions  took  firmer  ground. 

The  girl  held  the  door  open  a  crack,  as  though 
it  were  secured  by  a  chain  bolt. 

"Mrs.   Leslie  will  do — can  I  see  her?" 

He  almost  held  his  breath  waiting  for  the  an- 
swer— it  seemed  as  though  the  fate  of  a  seem- 
ingly happy  household  depended  upon  it — 
whether  Joe  Leslie  were  saint  or  sinner. 

"Mrs.  Leslie  is  in — what  name,  please?" 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  67 

"You  may  say — stay,  here  is  my  card,"  be- 
lieving the  girl  would  have  no  chance  to  read  it 
on  the  way. 

He  handed  her  a  calling  card  which  simply 
bore  his  name. 

In  a  minute  she  came  back. 

•  c 

"Mrs.  Leslie  will  see  you,  sir." 

The  door  opened. 

Eric  Darrell  found  himself  under  the  roof  of 
Joe  Leslie's  little  "bird's  nest,"  as  the  latter  was 
fond  of  styling  it. 

Everything  around  him  showed  evidences  of 
good  taste  and  plenty  of  money. 

Poor  bachelor  Eric  heaved  a  sigh  as  he  noted 
the  comfortable  air  of  the  cozy  house. 

"What  a  fool,"  he  muttered,  "but  some  men 
never  know  when  they're  well  off.  With  a  wife 
and  a  home  like  his,  Joe  ought  to  be  the  hap- 
piest man  in  New  York.  Seems  to  me  these 
things  generally  go  to  the  ones  least  capable  of 
appreciating  them." 

By  this  time  the  philosopher,  in  following  the 
servant  along  the  hall,  came  to  the  open  library 
door,  through  which  she  motioned  him  to  enter. 

He  did  so. 

Here  his  old  bachelor  soul  was  worse  rattled 


68  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

than  ever — such  a  dream  of  bliss  may  have  come 
to  him  over  his  post-prandial  cigar,  but  he  had 
never  believed  it  could  be  realized  to  a  human 
being  here  below. 

The  soft  lights,  the  cases  of  books,  the  cheery 
fire  in  the  large  grate,  and,  chief  of  all,  the  pretty 
little  lady  seated  at  the  table  engaged  in  some 
delicate  fancy  work — it  all  took  poor  Eric's 
breath  away. 

He  had  sense  enough  to  walk  up  and  shake 
hands. 

"You  see  the  plight  I  am  in — you  will  forgive 
my  not  rising,  Mr.  Darrell,"  she  said,  referring 
to  her  lap  full  of  silk  threads  and  such  odds  and 
ends. 

"Certainly,  Mrs.  Leslie,  don't  move,  I  beg. 
I  will  find  a  seat  near  by,"  he  returned. 

She  was  looking  at  him  eagerly. 

"Mr.  Darrell,  it  is  not  accident  that  brings 
you  up  here  to-night  ?"  she  said,  and  there  was 
a  question  in  her  eyes  as  well  as  in  her  voice. 

He  cannot  get  out  of  this. 

"I  came  on  a  little  business." 

"You  asked  to  see  Mr.  Leslie?" 

"In  reality  I  expected  to  see  you." 

"Ah!   you   have  already  solved  our  terrible 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  69 

mystery — tell  me  the  worst — does  Joe  visit  that 
awful  house  to  play  cards  ?" 

It  is  hard  work  dealing  with  a  woman — she 
is  apt  to  ask  so  many  questions  and  demand  an 
answer — then,  if  important  facts  are  told  her 
she  may  in  a  fit  of  pique  or  anger  disclose  them 
to  the  very  one  who  should  not  know. 

Darrell  knows  all  this. 

He  understands  how  to  manage  the  gentler 
sex,  and  in  the  present  instance  does  not  mean 
to  tell  one  whit  more  than  is  necessary. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say,  Mrs.  Leslie,  that  the  case 
is  not  yet  closed — indeed,  the  complications  are 
growing  more  serious — but,"  as  he  observes  the 
look  of  pain  on  her  sweet  face,  "I  expect  and 
hope  to  soon  clear  it  all  up." 

"Heaven  grant  it,"  she  replied. 

Luckily  Lillian  had  considerable  reserve  force 
in  her  nature,  and  now  that  this  was  brought  in- 
to play,  she  gave  promise  of  rising  to  meet  the 
exigencies  of  the  occasion. 

Darrell  admired  her  courage. 

He  found  it  harder  to  believe  evil  of  her 
than  he  did  of  Joe,  for  he  had  great  respect  for 
the  gentler  sex,  and  believed  all  men  had  a  good 
share  of  the  old  Adam  in  them — some  fought 


yo  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

the  good  fight  and  conquered — others  lay  down 
their  arms  and  surrendered,  while,,  many  ran  to 
meet  the  evil  half  way,  so  misshapen  were  their 
souls. 

Alone,  when  speculating  upon  this  strange 
double  case,  he  might  figure  out  this  thing  or 
that  by  force  of  logic;  but  when  looking  upon 
that  truthful,  lovely  face,  and  into  those  calm 
eyes,  he  was  ready  to  exclaim: 

"Shame  upon  you,  Eric  Darrell,  forever  even 
thinking  this  little  woman  and  wrong  could  have 
anything  in  common.  She's  an  angel  if  ever 
there  was  one  on  earth,  and  I  hope  her  sister  is 
built  upon  the  same  pattern." 

"Where  is  Joe?"  he  asked,   suddenly. 

"You  haven't  seen  him  then?" 

"I — no,  indeed,  not  to  speak  to  since  he  was 
in  my  office  this  afternoon." 

"I — thought  he  had  gone  to  you — he  spoke 
your  name  in  connection  with  the  matter." 

"What  matter,  may  I  ask?" 

"The  sad  affair  that  took  him  from  me  to- 
night." 

Sad  affair!  ' 

As  Darrell  saw  again  in  imagination  the  gay 
surroundings  of  the  hall  where  the  grand  bal 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  71 

masque  was  being  held,  he  ground  his  teeth  in 
silent  rage,  but  knowing  that  a  pair  of  sharp 
eyes  were  upon  him  he  did  not  allow  his  fury  to 
find  a  vent. 

"Indeed!  I  am  just  as  much  in  the  dark  as 
ever,  Mrs.  Leslie — enlighten  me." 

"I  presume  it's  the  same  sad  business  he  went 
to  see  you  about  to-day." 

Darrell  thought  not. 

"You  know  he  has  a  young  clerk  'and  cashier 
in  his  employ,  Georgie  Kingsley,  of  whom  Joe  is 
very  fond.  Of  late  he  has  been  led  to  believe 
the  boy  is  getting  a  little  wild — reports  have 
been  reaching  Joe  of  little  things,  showing  that 
Georgie  is  keeping  bad  company,  and  gambling. 
I  know  this  has  worried  Joe  of  late." 

Darrell  thought  something  else  might  be  giv- 
ing him  a  nervous  spell  too — no  man  can  live  a 
double  life  except  at  a  great  mental  strain,  for 
the  risk  of  sudden  exposure  must  be  terrible. 

"So  he's  gone  to  try  and  save  poor  Georgia 
to-night,  has  he?  Noble-hearted  old  Joe." 

She  could  not  help  but  catch  something  of  the 
sneer  under  his  words,  and  trembled  as  she  re- 
alized that  the  detective  had  grave  doubts. 

"He  said  he  would  probably  go  to  your  room 
and  get  your  company." 


72  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"He  changed  his  mind,  no  doubt,"  muttered 
the  detective — indignation  was  apt  to  make  him 
tell  more  than  discretion  warranted. 

"What  do  you  mean — you  know  something 
that  you  do  not  want  to  tell  me.  I  insist  on 
your  speaking.  Have  you  seen  my  husband  ?" 

"I  believe  I  have." 

"Where  was  it?" 

"Entering  the  hall  where  a  bal  masque  was 
being  held — quite  a  large  affair." 

"Alone?"  breathlessly. 

"No — with  a  lady.  Good  heavens!  Mrs.  Les- 
lie, take  it  calmly,  I  beg  of  you!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

MARIAN 

He  need  not  have  been  so  alarmed. 

True,  the  blood  seemed  to  leave  Lillian's  face, 
and  she  gasped  for  breath,  but  a  moment  later 
she  appeared  so  calm  that  even  the  detective 
was  amazed. 

His  admiration  increased,  for  he  saw  this  wo- 
man was  no  pretty  doll,  to  faint  at  the  first 
breath  of  adversity. 

"Do  you  know  this  as  a  fact,  Mr.  Darrell?" 
she  asked  in  steady  tones. 

"I  do  not,  positively,  and  I  think  we  ought 
to  give  Joe  the  benefit  of  the  doubt." 

"I  shall  do  more  than  that.  Until  with  his 
own  lips  he  'acknowledges  such  a  thing  to  me, 
I  will  believe  him  innocent — I  will  trust  him  as 
I  have  always  done,  as  the  best  and  truest  man 
on  earth.  And  yet  it  cuts  home  to  even  have 
such  suspicions  aroused — oh,  if  Marian  were  only 
here!" 

m 


74  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Your  sister?" 

"Yes,  the  sister  I  love  so  dearly,  and  who 
would  be  such  a  comfort  to  me.  She  always 
believed  in  Joe.  It  would  be  a  great  shock  to 
her." 

Eric  was  struck  by  a  sudden  thought. 

They  always  came  with  a  rush,  and  at  times 
might  fall  under  the  name  of  an  inspiration. 

"Have  you  your  sister's  photograph  handy, 
Mrs.  Leslie?  Your  husband  spoke  of  her  so 
much  and  said  I  must  meet  her  some  day.  I 
am  quite  interested,  and  would  like  to  see  her 
picture." 

"That  is  it  on  the  mantel." 

She  did  not  evidently  suspect  the  awful  thought 
that  came  into  his  brain. 

He  walked  over  and  looked  at  the  photograph. 

It  attracted  him  very  much. 

The  face  was  very  like  Lillian's,  only  the  hair 
and  eyes  were  dark. 

"I  shall  expect  an  invitation  here  when  your 
sister  comes  on,  Mrs.  Leslie.  She  is  in  Chicago 
now,  I  believe." 

"That  is  her  home,  but  she  is  now  traveling 
in  California  with  a  party  of  friends." 

California  1 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  75 

The  mention  of  that  far-away  State  sent  a 
cold  chill  down  his  back. 

Was  it  not  the  grocery  man  who  had  said  the 
beautiful  Mrs.  Lester's  husband  was  in  Cali- 
fornia? 

Somehow  he  made  the  application,  and  the 
effect  was  a  decided  chill. 

It  was  growing  blacker  for  Joe. 

"I  shall  take  a  run  down  and  see  if  I  can  find 
Joe — he  may  be  at  my  room  waiting  for  me — 
who  knows?  Can  I  trust  you  to  keep  this  mat- 
ter from  him,  Mrs.  Leslie — supposing  this  is  all 
a  mistake  and  that  he  is  innocent,  would  you 
ever  want  him  to  believe  that  you  harbored  such 
suspicions  ?" 

"No,  no,  I  would  not,"  she  sobbed. 

"Then  do  your  part — you  can  act  it  I  am  sure. 
Appear  natural — show  no  unusual  coldness  or 
warmth  of  affection — try  not  to  meet  his  eye  or 
your  own  may  betray  you.  If  he  insists  on  find- 
ing out  what  ails  you,  retreat  in  the  usual  plea 
of  a  headache." 

"I  will  not  fail  you,  Mr.  Darrell.  You  go 
about  your  work  with  the  prayers  of  a  faithful 
wife  following  you." 

He  believed  it  then — he  would  have  staked 


76  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

his  life  on  her  truth — and  yet  in  the  near  future 
such  terrible  doubts  were  to  arise. 

"Surely  that  talisman  ought  to  keep  any  man 
who  is  half  a  man,  from  evil — a  loving  mother 
and  a  faithful  wife  are  the  lodestones  that  have 
saved  many  a  weak  man  from  the  pit  of  destruc- 
tion. Good-night,  Mrs.  Leslie.  Remember, 
should  the  worst  come,  you  can  depend  upon 
Eric  Darrell  as  your  brother." 

He  had  said  more  than  he  intended  to,  but 
he  was  not  cold-blooded  like  a  fish,  and  the 
evident  distress  of  this  angel  on  earth  had 
wrought  up  all  his  feelings. 

Just  then  he  felt  as  though  he  could  have 
pommeled  Joe  Leslie  with  the  greatest  of  pleas- 
ure. 

Any  man  was  a  brute  who  would  give  a  wo- 
man like  this  sweet  creature,  pain. 

So  Eric  strode  away  angry  with  the  wicked- 
ness of  the  world  in  general,  and  this  friend  of 
his  in  particular. 

If  Joe  Leslie  turned  out  a  rascal  he  could  see 
no  palliating  circumstance  connected  with  the 
case,  and  according  to  his  ideas  the  man  ought 
to  be  drawn  and  quartered. 

Hardly  knowing  where  he  was  going,  Darrell 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  77 

brought  up  at  the  hall  where  the  bal  masque  was 
in  progress. 

It  was  still  early — not  later  than  half  past 
ten,  and  the  affair  had  only  started. 

Any  one  could  get  in  on  payment  of  the  reg- 
ular price,  two  dollars,  although  none  were  al- 
lowed on  the  main  floor  but  masks. 

Darrell  went  in. 

He  had  seen  these  things  before,  and  hence 
had  little  interest  in  the  ball  itself. 

Most  of  the  characters  were  old  too,  although 
here  and  there  some  genius  had  devised  some- 
thing new,  and  worth  looking  at. 

Eric  had  other  ideas  in  view. 

Monks,  flower  girls,  Indians,  Chinese,  knights, 
fortune  tellers,  dames  and  the  endless  chain  of 
historical  personages  such  an  event  gathers, 
passed  before  him  without  exciting  more  than  a 
slight  smile  or  a  single  glance  of  admiration. 

He  was  looking  for  the  couple  upon  whom  he 
meant  to  bestow  his  interest. 

Soon  he  sighted  them. 

From  that  time  on  Eric  seldom  took  his  eyes 
off  the  pair. 

He  imagined  he  detected  certain  little  pecul- 
iarities in  the  man's  walk  that  marked  him  as 
Joe  Leslie. 


78  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

As  for  the  woman,  Eric  became  quite  inter- 
ested trying  to  make  her  out— in  figure  she  cer- 
tainly resembled  Lillian,  and  this  only  added  to 
his  eager  pursuit. 

Another  point  he  noticed — her  hair  was  dark. 

Was  she  the  one  who  had  entered   his  mind? 

He  noticed  that  when  they  danced  it  was  al- 
ways together — other  couples  might  separate 
but  the  Spanish  bull  fighter  and  the  Lady  of 
Cards  seemed  inseparable. 

Probably  they  were  greeted  with  more  or  less 
lively  sallies  in  the  badinage  that  passed  current 
among  the  dancers,  but  the  size  of  the  bull 
fighter  deterred  any  envious  swains  from  at- 
tempting to  relieve  him  of  his  partner. 

Darrell  noted  the  envious  actions  of  some  of 
the  male  maskers  who  could  not  find  partners, 
and  made  up  his  mind  there  would  be  trouble 
yet  unless  the  couple  withdrew  early 

The  detective  had  managed  to  get  below  by 
bribing  a  keeper. 

He  did  not  go  out  upon  the  floor,  but  re- 
mained under  the  gallery. 

It  was  not  very  light  here. 

Now  and  then  some  promenading  couple 
would  pass  by,  chatting  and  laughing,  a  red  clad 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  79 

Mephistopheles  fanning  a  pretty  shepherdess, 
or  a  portly  friar  joking  with  Queen  Elizabeth. 

One  thing  is  always  noticeable  about  these  bal 
masques — the  ladies  never  assume  a  grotesque 
costume,  always  endeavoring  to  appear  charm- 
ing, according  to  their  own  ideas,  and  leaving 
the  funny  part  of  the  business  to  the  male  sex. 

The  couple  whom  Darrell  was  anxious  to 
watch  had  mingled  with  the  crowd  dancing  and 
for  some  little  time  he  lost  sight  of  them. 

He  began  to  grow  a  little  anxious  and  was 
just  thinking  of  changing  his  quarters,  when  all 
of  a  sudden  they  appeared  in  view  close  by. 

They  were  heading  for  the  dark  spot  under  the 
gallery  where  only  a  few  persons  had  gathered. 

The  lady  was  holding  both  hands  up  to  her 
head,  as  if  to  keep  her  mask  from  falling  while 
her  tall  escort  forced  a  passage. 

Eric  shrank  back  behind  a  pillar. 

The  two  came  within  ten  feet  of  where  he 
stood,  and  there  halted. 

"Can  you  fix  it?"  he  heard  her  ask. 

"I  will  try,  Marian,"  was  the  reply.     . 

That  name — it  confirmed  the  detective's 
worst  fears — he  could  believe  anything  now. 

The  Lady  of  Cards  handed  her   mask  to   her 


8o  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

companion,  who  immediately  endeavored  to  re- 
fasten  the  string  that  had  broken  loose. 

Meanwhile  she  stood  with  her  face  bared, 
looking  out  upon  the  throng. 

What  a  miserable  thing  it  was  that  the  light 
was  so  poor  under  the  gallery. 

Darrell  just  then  would  have  given  a  hun- 
dred dollars  for  one  good  square  look  at  her  face. 

Oh,  for  an  electric  torch  to  suddenly  light  up 
the  scene  and  reveal  those  features  to  his  gaze. 

He  used  his  eyes  to  the  utmost,  but  it  was 
not  at  all  satisfactory,  for  her  face  was  in  the 
shadow;  but  he  had  an  idea  she  was  very  like 
the  picture  he  had  looked  at  recently — the  pho- 
tograph of  Lillian's  sister. 

Presently  the  bull  fighter  had  succeeded  in 
re-securing  the  string. 

He  tied  the  mask  on  for  her 

His  manner  was  very  courtly  and  gentle,  but 
one  spectator  did  not  enjoy  it  at  all. 

This  was  Eric. 

His  thoughts  would  go,  in  spite  of  him,  to  that 
heavenly  room  where  he  had  left  a  sweet  and 
faithful  wife  waiting  for  her  Joe  to  return. 

Somehow  Eric  felt  savage  to-night,  and  he 
wondered  whether  it  would  not  serve  this  man 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  81 

just  right  if  he  did  get  into  trouble  with  some  of 
the  envious  young  beaux  who  followed  him 
about  as  though  only  waiting  a  good  chance  to 
carry  off  his  partner  by  force. 

A  traitor  deserved  such  punishment. 

"I'll  never  believe  in  a  man  again,"  said  Eric 
to  himself,  filled  with  shame  and  disgust  for  his 
sex;  "by  Jove!  they're  all  alike,  a  miserable 
crowd  of  deceivers,  every  one." 

He  forgot  that  he  belonged  to  the  same  sex, 
and  that  his  very  indignation  proved  his  words 
exaggerated,  since  he  could  not  share  in  such 
evil  plottings,  and  there  must  be  others  like 
him. 

He  wandered  up  and  down. 

Now  and  then  he  saw  the  couple,  but  much 
of  the  time  they  were  lost  to  his  view. 

Darrell  remained  near  the  exit. 

It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  when  the  order 
to  unmask  would  be  given. 

Some  who  did  not  care  to  remain  and  be  rec- 
ognized were  already  flitting. 

He  believed  those  whom  he  watched  would  do 
likewise,  and  it  was  his  desire  to  get  outside  at 
the  same  time  to  hear  the  directions  given  to 
the  driver  if  any  were  uttered. 


8a  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Just  at  this  moment,  close  by,  he  heard  sounds 
of  an  uproar. 

These  things  are  generally  prevented  at  public 
balls  by  the  presence  of  the  police,  but  no 
officers  were  in  sight  now — perhaps  they  had 
gone  into  the  refreshment  room. 

Darrell  instantly  had  a  suspicion  of  the  truth, 
and  his  eyes  were  immediately  directed  toward 
the  melee. 

Just  as  he  suspected,  in  the  struggling  crowd 
he  saw  the  tall  form  of  the  Spanish  bull  fighter 
— the  man  was  dealing  blows  right  and  left  and 
had  already  sent  several  audacious  assailants 
rolling  in  the  dust  of  the  hall  floor. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  BRAND  FROM   THE  BURNING 

The  detective  was  a  man. 

He  admired  courage  and  grit,  no  matter  in 
whom  it  was  found,  and  when  he  saw  the  Span- 
ish bull  fighter  holding  his  own  against  the  num- 
ber who  had  assailed  him  he  could  not  but  ex- 
press this  feeling. 

It  seemed  as  though  these  young  bloods  were 
furious  because  the  other  kept  his  partner  to 
himself,  and  allowed  her  to  dance  with  no  one 
else — it  is  always  the  case  that  a  pack  of  such 
hot  heads  may  be  found  at  a  public  gathering, 
and  trouble  often  ensues. 

Perhaps  the  Lady  of  Cards,  secure  behind 
her  mask,  had  flirted  with  some  of  them,  and 
had  driven  them  wild. 

It  is  human  nature  to  covet  what  we  cannot 
have  and  their  anger  toward  the  giant  bull  fighter 

had  grown  intense. 

88 


84  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

As  we  have  seen,  it  culminated  in  what 
threatened  to  be  a  riot. 

The  woman  was  frightened  now — she  trem- 
bled, and  cowered  behind  her  protector. 

He  stood  up  like  a  rock  before  her. 

Twice  his  arm  had  shot  out  and  on  each 
occasion  one  of  his  assailants  had  gone  down. 

They  pressed  him  hard. 

The  bull  fighter  turned  to  the  right  and  left 
and  defended  himself  gallantly,  while  he  shielded 
his  companion  as  best  he  could. 

It  was  a  singular  spectacle  to  be  seen  at  a 
New  York  public  ball. 

When  passion  rules  men's  minds  their  sur- 
roundings have  no  effect  on  them. 

They  would  fight  in  a   tomb,  over  the    dead. 

Seeing  that  in  all  probability  the  rascals  would 
get  the  better  of  the.  man,  Darrell  pushed  that 
way;  at  this  moment  one  of  the  men  grasped 
the  lady  by  the  wrist. 

She  screamed. 

The  bull  fighter  turned  like  a  mad  tiger,  saw 
what  was  transpiring,  threw  the  assailants  who 
were  clinging  to  him,  and  plunged  at  the  man 
who  was  grasping  the  lady's  arm  and  endeav- 
oring to  drag  her  away,  for  the  music  still  kept 


\ 
JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  85 

up,  and  many  were  dancing  all  unconscious   of 
the  melee. 

There  was  a  tremendous  rush,  the  bull  fighter 
caught  the  wretch  and  whirled  him,  spinning 
like  a  teetotum,  ten  feet  away.  Never  did  a 
dancing  dervish  spin  so  merrily. 

Then  came  an  awful  crash,  as  the  man  struck 
a  swaying  column  of  dancers,  who  immediately 
toppled  over  upon  him. 

By  this  time  the  detective  was  at  the  side  of 
the  bull  fighter. 

"Keep  back,  you  young  fools!  Keep  back,  I 
say,  or  I'll  land  the  whole  of  you  in  the  Tombs!" 

His  words  were  heard. 

Backed  up  as  they  were  with  the  shining 
barrel  of  a  revolver,  they  commanded  respect. 

By  this  time  the  management  had  succeeded 
in  getting  the  officers  from  the  supper-room  to 
the  spot,  and  upon  seeing  them  come,  the  young 
fellows  who  had  been  the  cause  of  the  disturb- 
ance slunk  away,  losing  themselves  in  the 
crowd. 

The  management  apologized  to  the  bull  fighter 
when  they  learned  what  had  occurred,  but  his 
companion  seemed  to  have  received  a  nervous 
shock — at  any  rate  they  retired  for  their  wraps. 


86  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Darrell  moved  outside. 

There  was  something  more  he  desired  to  learn 
and  the  chance  must  soon  come. 

He  waited. 

Just  at  twelve  they  came. 

The  hour  for  unmasking  had  arrived,  and 
there  was  quite  a  high  time  within. 

This  displeased  the  detective,  for  he  was 
afraid  lest  he  might  not  hear  what  he  desired. 

The  couple  walked  down  the  pavement  in 
search  of  the  carriage',  which  was  waiting  near 
by,  the  driver  having  received  instructions. 

They  soon  reached  it. 

Darrell  hovered  near. 

The  bull  fighter  assisted  his  companion  in  and 
then  entered  himself. 

"Where  to,  sir?"  asked  the  driver,  probably 
not  knowing  but  what  they  had  another  engage- 
ment at  some  private  ball. 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  the  house  deadened 
the  reply,  but  Darrell 's  keen  ears  caught: 

" — Twenty-seventh  Street." 

It  was  enough. 

He  felt  down-spirited. 

In  so  far  as  he  could  see  ahead,  the  case  was 
a  settled  one — Joe  Leslie  was  guilty. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  87 

He  seemed  to  feel  it  as  keenly  as  though  it 
were  a  brother  of  his. 

Poor  Lillian !  that  it  should  come  to  this  in 
one  short  year. 

It  would  have  seemed  incredible,  but  he  was 
used  to  meeting  with  strange  things,  and  being 
of  a  philosophical  train  of  mind  could  take 
things  pretty  much  as  they  came. 

So  Darrell  turned  homeward. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  done  that 
night. 

He  remembered  that  on  the  morning  he  had 
engaged  to  watch  the  house  in  which  the  Les- 
lies lived. 

That  strange  man  would  come  and  must  be 
tracked  to  discover  his  identity. 

It  was  a  task  Darrell  did  not  like. 

Every  time  he  thought  of  it  he  saw  the  face  of 
Lillian  before  him,  and  in  the  depth  of  those 
liquid  eyes  there  appeared  such  a  world  of  truth 
that  the  detective  was  fain  to  shake  his  head. 

Experienced  man  of  the  world  as  he  was,  he 
could  not  believe  her  guilty. 

There  must  be  some  mistake. 

So  he  made  his  way  to  his  rooms,  feeling 
depressed  over  the  events  of  the  night. 


88  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

He  hated  the  thought  of  his  next  meeting 
with  the  lady — how  could  he  face  her  and  tell 
her  what  he  had  seen  and  heard? 

"Hang  the  foolish  fellow — how  could  he  treat 
such  an  angel  in  that  way?" 

Hold  on,  Mr.  Darrell,  before  twenty-four 
hours  have  flown  you  will  perhaps  have  changed 
your  mind  and  concluded  that  even  angels  may 
be  of  the  earth,  earthy. 

When  he  arrived  at  his  apartments  it  was 
about  half-past  twelve. 

As  he  opened  the  door  he  saw  a  card    below. 

When  he  had  applied  the  burning  match  to 
the  gas,  he  picked  this  up. 

"Hello!"  was  his  exclamation. 

His  eyes  had  fallen  upon  a  name. 

"Joseph  Gregory  Leslie." 

Turning  the  card  over  he  found,  scribbled  in 
pencil,  the  words: 

"Called  to  see  you — may  come  in  later  to- 
night. Some  important  business." 

When  he  had  read  this  the  detective 
scratched  his  head  and  mused. 

"How  is  this — he  must  have  run  down  here 
first.  Come  in  later,  eh?  Well,  who  knows 
but  what  after  he  has  seen  Marian  home  he 
may  run  down?" 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  89 

He  stopped  to  listen  to  a  carriage  rumbling 
along  the  street — at  this  time  of  night  they 
were  not  very  frequent  here,  and  when  it  stopped 
in  front  of  the  house  he  smiled. 

"Ah,  he  has  seen  her  home  and  come  down  to 
carry  out  his  promise  to  Lillian.  The  story  of 
the  erring  clerk  may  not  be  all  moonshine." 

He  put  his  head  out  of  the  window. 

The  carriage  lamps  shone  below. 

It  was  a  hack,  drawn  by  dark  horses. 

So  had  the  other  been. 

Darrell  had  not  the  slightest  idea  but  that  they 
were  one  and  the  same — he  flattered  himself 
that  he  could  read  Joe  Leslie  like  a  book,  for 
the  man  was  a  poor  plotter. 

Just  as  he  suspected,  there  were  footsteps  on 
the  stairs. 

Some  one  was  coming. 

A  knock  sounded  on  his  door. 

Opening  it,  who  should  be  standing  there  but 
Joe  Leslie  in  the  flesh? 

"You  are  home  at  last — I  have  been  here 
twice  before  and  found  you  out,"  he  said. 

Darrell  believed  once  would  answer,  but  of 
course  he  made  no  such  remark. 

"Well,  come  in  and  sit  down." 


go  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"No,  I  haven't  time." 

"What  do  you  want  with  me?"  asked  Darrell, 
just  as  though  he  did  not  already  know. 

"Can  you  give  me  an  hour  or  so?" 

"Yes." 

"I  have  a  favorite  clerk — I  am  afraid  he  has 
fallen  into  had  company.  For  his  mother's  sake 
I  want  to  rescue  him  before  it  is  too  late." 

Darrell  admired  the  motive  however  much  he 
distrusted  the  man. 

"Wait  a  minute  and  I  will  go  with  you." 

He  kicked  off  his  slippers  and  drew  on  his 
shoes.  Then  a  coat  and  hat  followed.  The 
minute  was  not  yet  over  when  he  announced 
himself  in  readiness. 

Truly,  Eric  Darrell  would  do  for  a  lightning 
change  artist  on  the  stage. 

They  passed  down  the  stairs  of  the  house, 
which  had  apartments  for  gentlemen  only. 

New  York  is  full  of  these  bachelor  dens,  some 
of  them  having  suites  of  rooms  furnished  in  a 
gorgeous  manner  that  speaks  of  the  sybarite 
taste  of  the  rich  young  or  old  owner.  The 
bachelors  of  to-day  live  for  their  own  comfort, 
surrounded  by  all  the  luxuries  money  can  pur- 
chase for  them. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  gi 

No  one  thinks  of  pitying  them  any  longer,  least 
of  all  do  they  themselves  feel  forlorn. 

People  who  love  a  home  may  sigh  at  such  a 
picture,  but  it.  is  the  truth  in  all  large  cities  and 
New  York  above  the  rest.  On  the  way  down 
Joe  spoke: 

"You  know  the  places  where  such  a  young 
man  is  apt  to  be  found,  Eric?" 

"Well,  I  ought  to — my  business  carries  me 
into  them  every  week,"  replied  the  other. 

"Then  let  us  make  the  rounds." 

He  spoke  wearily. 

Why  not? 

When  a  man  has  been  dancing  for  several 
hours,  he  cannot  feel  as  fresh  as  a  daisy — it 
does  not  stand  to  reason. 

They  entered  the  hack. 

Darrell  gave  his  first  address  to  Joe  who  re- 
peated it  to  the  driver. 

Away  they  went. 

"Hello!  what's  wrong  with  your  hand?"  asked 
the  detective.  The  carriage  lamps  gave  enough 
light  for  him  to  see  that  Joe  had  his  handker- 
chief wrapped  around  the  knuckles  of  his  right 
hand. 

"Took  a  tumble  up  a  dark    flight   of  stairs 


92  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

when  I  was  looking  awhile  back  and  bruised  my 
knuckles." 

Darrell  smiled  but  made  no  remark.  He 
thought  he  knew  how  that  hand  had  become 
bruised — it  was  in  a  more  honorable  business 
than  falling  up  stairs — in  defending  a  weak  and 
helpless  woman  against  ruffians. 

"You  know  some  of  these  places  then,  Joe?" 

"My  driver  knew  of  several,  but  I  had  hard 
work  getting  in." 

Darrell  thought  so. 

"Perhaps  they  did  not  think  I  wanted  to  play, 
and  may  have  been  suspicious  of  my  intentions." 

"No  doubt.  If  you  rescued  some  young  fel- 
low from  their  clutches,  it  meant  less  money  for 
their  pockets." 

They  lapsed  into  silence. 

Soon  the  vehicle  stopped. 

They  entered  a  gambling  den. 

Joe  quickly  declared  his  clerk  was  not  there 
and  they  proceeded  to  another. 

Four  had  been  visited,  and  in  the  last  one  he 
discovered  the  young  man  at  the  green  baize, 
his  face  flushed  with  wine  and  excitement. 

The  detective  drew  him  out  and  brought  him 
to  his  employer,  at  sight  of  whom  he  turned 
white  and  put  his  hands  to  his  eyes. 


JOE  LESLIE'S   WIFE  ££ 

Joe  Leslie  talked  to  him  beautifully — even 
that  hard-hearted  detective,  Eric  Darrell,  who 
had  seen  so  much  of  the  world,  had  to  turn  his 
head  away  and  wink  hard  to  dry  up  his  tears. 

As  for  the  boy —  he  was  hardly  more — what 
he  heard  so  affected  him  that  he  caught  hold  of 
Joe's  arm  and  sobbed  outright. 

"As  heaven  is  my  judge,  Mr.  Leslie,  from 
this  hour  I  will  never  again  yield  to  temptation 
in  any  shape.  What  you  said  about  my  mother 
has  taken  the  scales  from  my  eyes  and  I  see." 

Even  Darrell  knew  he  would  stand  firm. 

Joe  Leslie  had  saved  one  soul. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  JEHU  ADDS  TO  THE  MYSTERY 

It  gave  Eric  Darrell  a  strange  feeling  to  hear 
Joe  talk  in  the  vein  he  did. 

Of  all  men  on  earth — or  women  either — he 
despised  a  hypocrite. 

Could  he  believe  Joe  sincere  in  what  he  said 
about  deceit,  when  such  a  load  of  suspicion  was 
resting  over  his  own  head? 

Eric  was  badly  rattled. 

He  believed  and  yet  doubted. 

Something  must  soon  come  up  to  decide  the 
question  one  way  or  another. 

On  the  way  to  his  rooms,  where  Joe  was  to 
put  him  down,  the  latter  fell  asleep  in  the  cor- 
ner, so  no  words  passed  between  them. 

When  the  hack  came  to  a  stop  Joe  woke  up. 

"Hello  here,  where  are  we?" 

"At  my  den;"  and  Eric  got  out  as  the  driver 
opened  the  door. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  95 

"Then  I  can  have  another  nap  before  I  reach 

my  home." 

"Good  night,  Joe." 

"Don't  forget  to-morrow   morning,    Eric." 

"I  shan't,  you  may  depend  upon  it." 

As  a  sudden  thought  flashed  through  his 
mind  he  turned  and  looked  at  the  driver. 

Surely  this  was  not  the  same  man  who  had 
driven  Joe  from  the  bal  masque. 

The  detective  did  not  remember  the  number 
of  the  other  vehicle,  but  had  seen  the  man — 
both  wore  the  regulation  tall  stove-pipe  hat, 
without  which  no  cabby  is  ever  seen  in  New 
York,  if  he  has  any  respect  for  himself,  but  there 
was  a  decided  difference  in  the  height  of  the  men. 

This  again  puzzled  Eric. 

"What  is  your  name,  driver?"  he  asked,  as 
the  other  was  about  to  mount  his  box. 

"John  Mulligan,  sor." 

"German,  of  course?"  smiling. 

"Yis,  sor,  direct  from  Cork." 

"Where  can  you  be  found  in  the  morning 
about  ten  o'clock?" 

The  man  gave  his  stand. 

"Then  consider  yourself  engaged  by  myself 
from  ten  to  twelve,  and  wait  for  me." 


g/6  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"All  right,  sor." 

The  hack  rattled  down  the  street. 

Darrell  looked  after  it  and  shook  his  head — 
he  did  not  know  really  what  to  think. 

In  all  the  strange  cases  he  had  handled  in  the 
past,  he  could  not  remember  one  which  had 
presented  such  a  confusing  front  as  this. 

It  faced  both  ways. 

He  was  not  yet  ready  to  believe  either  side 
until  stronger  proofs  were  presented. 

At  any  rate  another  day  would  surely  develop 
new  features  bearing  on  the  case,  and  from 
these  he  would  be  able  to  get  conclusions. 

He  retired  at  a  quarter  to  three. 

It  was  his  intention  to  rise  at  eight,  and  when 
he  jumped  out  of  bed  the  clock  lacked  but  a  few 
minutes  of  the  hour. 

Before  nine  he  had  breakfasted  in  a  neigh- 
boring cafe. 

The  other  inmates  of  the  bachelor  apartment 
house  had  no  idea  of  the  occupation  the  detect- 
ive followed. 

He  was  a  quiet  fellow  and  did  not  seek  ac- 
quaintances— besides,  in  New  York,  people  get 
acquainted  only  through  regular  channels — two 
families  might  live  next  door  for  several  years 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  gy 

and  their  ways  and  hours  are  so  different  that 
the  members  hardly  know  their  neighbors  by 
sight. 

It  was  now  getting  on  toward  the  time  when 
he  ought  to  be  up  town. 

He  ran  down  to'his  office  first,  and  blossomed 
out  as  a  first-class  masher,  of  the  type  who  fre- 
quent the  matinees — real  lady  killers. 

Then  he  next  made  his  way  up  town  on  the 
elevated  road,  and  got  off  at  Eighty-ninth  Street. 

In  a  short  time  he  was  in  the  drug  store  near 
the  home  of  the  Leslies. 

The  proprietor  was  talkative  and  friendly. 

It  was  just  three  minutes  of  ten  when  a  gentle- 
man passed  along  the  pavement  in  the  direction 
of  the  house  under  surveillance. 

He  turned  and  came  into  the  drug  store  osten- 
sibly to  buy  a  cigar,  but'  in  reality,  as  the  de- 
tective guessed,  to  pass  the  time. 

Just  as  the  clock  was  about  striking  he  hur- 
ried out  and  was  soon  mounting  the  steps 
leading  to  the  Leslie  mansion. 

Eric  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"There's  no  accounting  for  tastes,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

"Yes,"  laughed  the  druggist,  "he  picked  out 
the  poorest  weed  in  the  box." 


98  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

But  Darrell  was  thinking  of  something  else. 

He  had  in  mind  the  stalwart  figure  and  pleas- 
ing face  of  Joe  Leslie. 

Between  the  two  he  saw  no  choice. 

Still,  this  man  was  in  a  way  distinguished  by 
his  poetical  appearance — his  face  was  smooth, 
all  but  a  wavy  mustache,  and  he  wore  his  hair 
down  upon  his  shoulders. 

Eric  spent  some  time  talking  to  the  druggist, 
but  he  kept  watch  upon  the  Leslie  domicile.  At 
eleven  the  stranger  came  out.  He  was  given 
egress  by  Mrs.  Leslie,  and  Darrell  was  put  in 
mind  of  the  photograph  Joe  had  shown  him. 

His  business  now  was  to  discover  who  this 
gentleman  was. 

He  followed  him  to  the  elevated  railroad,  and 
went  in  the  car  next  to  that  which  the  man  un- 
der surveillance  entered. 

Thus,  at  about  eleven  twenty-three,  he  fol- 
lowed the  other  along  Twenty-third  Street  and 
saw  him  enter  a  certain  building  among  the 
handsome  stores. 

Still  pursuing  his  man,  carefully  keeping  him 
under  his  eye,  he  watched  until  the  other  had 
entered  a  room  on  the  top  floor. 

There  was  a  door-plate  in  sight. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  gg 

Going  closer  the  detective  read: 

"Paul  Prescott — Artist." 

He  knew  the  name — the  owner  had  quite  a 
reputation  as  a  painter,  but  Eric  had  never  as 
yet  heard  of  him  as  a  lady  killer. 

His  next  work  was  to  get  some  information 
concerning  Mr.  Prescott. 

There  were  other  offices  below,  and  entering 
one  which  seemed  to  be  that  of  an  ivory  carver, 
he  introduced  the  subject  by  saying  that  he  had 
occasion  to  make  use  of  .an  artist  at  his  home, 
and  wished  to  make  certain  inquiries  concerning 
the  gentleman  above. 

"I  do  not  like  to  say  anything,"  remarked  the 
ivory  carver. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  ask  about  his  work — 
that  stands  on  its  own  merits — but  as  he  would 
have  to  be  a  member  of  my  family  for  a  time  if 
he  undertook  the  job,  I  would  like  to  know  if  he 
is  a  perfect  gentleman." 

"I  have  no  occasion  to  believe  otherwise." 

"Married?" 

"N— no." 

"You  seem  to  hesitate — am  I  to  infer  that  you 
have  any  reason  to  believe  otherwise?" 

"I  used  to  think  he  was,  but  of  late  he  told 
me  he  was  a  widower." 


loo  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Oh,  that's  it.  I  suppose  he  has  lots  of 
people  visit  his  studio?" 

"Quite  a  number." 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen?" 

"Ladies  particularly — he's  very  fond  of  the 
gentle  sex,  and  they  quite  make  a  hero  of  him." 

Darrell  smiled. 

He  had  seen  stage  favorites  whom  the  silly 
women  of  New  York  were  wont  to  rave  over, 
and  knew  just  how  foolishly  they  could  act. 

Thank  heaven  all  women  are  not  alike,  and 
yet  their  weak  points  are  more  or  less  developed 
in  the  whole  sex,  as  with  men. 

He  sighed  as  he  thought  of  it,  and  then  he 
turned  again,  loyal  to  the  resolve  he  had  made 
not  to  condemn  Lillian  without  the  most  abso- 
lute proof. 

As  he  left  the  building  he  remembered  the 
hack  driver. 

Could  he  reach  his  stand  before  twelve? 

He  started  off — a  street  car  assisted  him  up 
Sixth  Avenue,  and  he  arrived  just  five  minutes 
before  the  noon  hour. 

John  was  there. 

He  had  the  same  horses  as  on  the  previous 
night,  and  showed  no  marks  of  his  late  hours. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  101 

At  sight  of  the  detective  he  made  no  sign  of 
recognition,  which  was  quite  natural,  for  the 
latter' s  disguise  was  complete. 

"Hello,  John,  I  want  your  vehicle,"  Eric  said. 

"I'm  engaged  just  now,  sor." 

"Yes,  warming  your  heels.  John,  I'm  the 
gentleman  who  engaged  you  last  night." 

The  man  made  a  peculiar  face. 

"Tell  that  till  the  marines,  sor.  Ain't  I  got 
eyes — phat  good  are  they  if  I  don't  see?" 

"Well,  they're  no  good  if  they  can't  see  that 
— five  dollars,  pay  for  the  two  hours  you've 
waited." 

The  man  looked  at  the  bill  and  took  it. 

"Faith  an'  now  I  know  ye 're  the  gentlemen, " 
he  said  with  a  leer. 

It  is  strange  yet  true  that  such  a  man  can  al- 
ways see  better  with  a  bank  bill  over  his  eyes. 

"Did  my  friend  Leslie  get  home  all  right?" 

"Yes,  sor." 

"Anybody  waiting  up  for  him?"  carelessly. 

"His  wife  I  reckon,  sor — leastways  she  let 
him  in  directly  the  kerriage  stopped." 

This  was  a  point  for  the  detective. 

He  made  a  note  of  it. 

"Have  you  driven  for  Mr.   Leslie  before?" 


ioa  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Several  times,  sor." 

"Pipe  fellow." 

"That's  where  yees  are  correct — he's  a  man 
I  could  do  lots  for." 

This  was  not  flattery — the  true  ring  could  be 
detected  in  such  praise — it  came  from  the  heart. 

"How  did  it  come  he  had  another  driver  ear- 
lier in  the  night?" 

"Him — Mr.  Joseph  Leslie — sure  I  took  him 
from  his  house  and  brought  him  back  and  divil 
another  driver  did  he  have  at  all.  Phat  are  yees 
drivin'  at?  I  dunno!" 

"I  made  a  mistake,  John — I  see  it  now." 

To  himself,  however,  this  hunter  of  men  was 
saying: 

"Probably  Joe  has  bought  this  fellow  up,  body 
and  soul — that  would  account  for  his  desire  to 
serve  him." 

Nothing  could  be  more  easily  done,  for  the 
man  looked  like  one  who  would  be  faithful. 

If  this  were  the  case  it  would  be  love's  labor 
lost  to  attempt  to  get  any  intelligence  out  of 
such  a  man. 

Still,  Eric  Darrell  prided  himself  on  his  man- 
ner of  cross  questioning,  and  he  began  to  work 
the  jehu  in  a  manner  that  was  novel  to  say  the 
least. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  103 

Thus  he  found  that  to  all  appearances  John 
had  driven  down  town,  and  taken  the  gentle- 
man to  several  places  besides  the  apartment 
house  where  he  held  forth. 

Altogether  they  had  visited  three  houses  where 
games  of  chance  were  going  on  but  there  was 
so  much  trouble  effecting  an  entrance  to  these 
places  that  it  had  consumed  much  time. 

If  this  were  true  it  would  make  the  puzzle 
darker  than  ever. 

The  question  was,  could  John  be  trusted? 

He  had  to  watch  the  man  keenly  in  order  to 
read  him  at  all. 

An  Irishman  can  dissemble  about  as  well  as 
the  next  one,  and  this  jehu  was  a  particularly 
bright  boy,  from  the  "ould  dart." 

"Did  you  meet  any  one  you  knew  about  a 
quarter  of  twelve?"  asked  the  detective. 

"Did  I — yes,  it  was  just  striking  the  midnight 
hour  when  I  spoke  to  Mike  Crotty,  the  night 
police  at  the  corner  av  Broadway  and  Worth 
Street." 

"I  know  him — what  remarks  passed?" 

"We  both  spoke  av  the  bells — and  Mike  towld 
me  about  a  dancing  in  the  moonlight  he  saw 
wanst  in  ould  Ireland,  when  the  fairies  came  out 


J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

to  howld  their  only  ball — it  was  at  this  hour  he 
seen  it  and  lost  his  mind.  Whin  he  found  it 
again  the  beastly  work  had  stopped  and  the  fair- 
ies were  gone." 

"Well,  I  guess  it's  too  late  for  me  to  do  what 
I  meant  to.  I  won't  need  you  to-day,  John. 
Sometime  I  may  want  your  help." 

With  these  words  Eric  Darrell  coolly  turned 
and  walked  away.  The  Irishman  looked  after 
him  quizzically. 

"He's  an  odd  genius,  but,  d'ye  know,  I  rather 
like  the  man.  Just  as  if  I  don't  know  where 
he's  gone.  Hope  he  finds  Mike  Crotty  on  deck 
this  fine  day." 


CHAPTER  IX 

JOE'S  SECRET 

Mike  Crotty  was  on  deck.  Eric  readily  found 
him. 

The  man  was  a  stranger  to  him,  but  there  is 
a  mystic  tie  between  the  detectives  and  police 
in  a  great  city — they  work  in  harmony. 

Soon  the  two  men  were  conversing  with  the 
greatest  freedom. 

Crotty  had  often  heard  of  Detective  Darrell, 
and  was  only  too  glad  to  supply  any  informa- 
tion that  lay  in  his  power.  He  remembered 
meeting  the  hackman  and  spoke  of  the  bells 
ringing  out  the  midnight  hour. 

There  could  be  no  mistake. 

When  Eric  left  the  officer,  he  was  a  badly 
puzzled  man  to  be  sure.  Instead  of  having 
solved  the  mystery  it  was  assuming  even  dark- 
er proportions,  and  the  chances  seemed  equally 
divided. 

Was  Joe  guilty  or  not  ? 
106 


106  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

If,  as  these  men  agreed,  he  was  at  a  certain 
place  just  as  the  solemn  midnight  hour  rang 
out,  how  could  he  have  been  at  the  bal  masque 
— it  was  at  that  hour  of  unmasking  the  Spanish( 
bull  fighter  and  his  consort,  the  Lady  of  Cards, 
drove  away  in  another  vehicle  and  yet — that 
man  possessed  the  stalwart  figure  of  Joe  Leslie 
— Eric  believed  he  would  know  it  anywhere — 
he  had  answered  to  the  name  of  Joe,  while  his 
companion  was  Marian. 

The  difficulties  in  the  way  might  have  daunt- 
ed a  less  persevering  officer  than  Darrell. 

They  only  spurred  him  on  to  renewed  exer- 
tions. He  gloried  in  a  puzzle. 

To  a  man  of  his  nature  it  was  the  most  pleas- 
urable work  in  the  world,  studying  the  intrica- 
cies of  a  mystery,  grasping  a  thread  in  the  laby- 
rinthine maze,  following  it  along  inch  by  inch, 
until  the  whole  thing  resolved  itself  into  a  solved 
problem. 

x  Then,    when   the   end  came,     how  proud    he 
would  be  to  survey  his  work. 

He  began  to  give  Joe  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 
This  was  one  point  gained. 

It  is  a  rule  in  American  courts  never  to  ad- 
judge a  man  guilty  until  he  has  been  proven  so 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIPE  107 

— the  law  looks  upon  him  as  innocent,  and  all 
efforts  of  the  prosecutor  are  directed  toward 
proving  the  charges. 

In  some  other  countries  the  opposite  is  the 
case  and  the  accused  has  to  prove  his  innocence. 

Eric  Darrell  was  gradually  applying  this  for- 
mer principle  to  the  case  in  question. 

Perhaps  Joe  might  be  innocent,  and  this  cloud 
hanging  over  him  be  the  result  of  circumstantial 
evidence. 

At  any  rate  the  detective  hoped  so. 

He  looked  at  his  watch  mechanically. 

Just  now  the  thought  came  into  his  head  that 
he  must  find  out  all  about  Joe  before  another 
night  had  spread  its  mantle  over  the  city. 

The  time  dragged  along. 

He  had  some  work  to  do  in  his  office,  and 
this  consumed  something  like  an  hour 

Then  he  made  his  way  slowly  in  the  direction 
of  Twenty-seventh  Street. 

It  was  about  four  when  he  came  in  sight  of 
the  house  around  which  clustered  so  much  that 
was  mysterious. 

Sauntering  along,  he  kept  watch  for  Joe,  feel- 
ing almost  sure  the  other  would  come. 

Sure  enough,  at  the  regular  time  his  tall  figure 
came  in  view. 


io8  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Darrell  managed  it  so  that  at  this  moment  he 
was  nearly  opposite  the  house. 

He  could  see  Joe  without  looking  in  a  partic- 
ular manner  across  the  street,  and  he  saw  that 
the  other  appeared  nervous  and  worried. 

Was  his  guilty  secret  wearing  on  his   mind? 

Something  undoubtedly  disturbed  him. 

Any  one  could  see  that  from  the  expression 
on  his  face. 

As  usual,  when  he  came  in  front  of  the  house, 
he  turned  and  looked  up  the  street,  as  though 
he  were  afraid  lest  some  one  whom  he  knew 
would  recognize  him. 

Then  he  went  up  the  steps. 

There  was  no  ringing  the  bell. 

With  a  key  he  opened  the  door  as  though 
proprietor  there. 

Then  Darrell,  passing  on,  lost  sight  of  him. 

The  detective  crossed  the  street  beyond,  and 
came  on  down,  intending  to  pass  the  house  again. 

He  changed  his  mind. 

When  just  opposite,  looking  up  he  saw  that 
fortune  beckoned  him. 

The  door  was  ajar. 

Joe  had  been  a  trifle  careless,  and  made  a 
mistake  when  he  thought  he  closed  the  door. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  109 

What  could  be  better? 

Mr.  Darrell  was  a  man  quick  to  make  up  his 
mind,  and  he  instantly  saw  a  chance  here  to 
further  his  plans. 

Without  hesitating  an  instant  he  advanced  up 
the  steps,  stood  upon  the  door-step,  and  seemed 
to  glance  around  carelessly,  when  in  reality  he 
was  listening  to  catch  any  sound  that  might 
come  from  the  interior. 

Another  moment  and  he  had  entered. 

Perhaps  some  one  saw  him,  but  he  had  put 
on  an  air  of  proprietorship  such  as  Joe  wore, 
and  curious  eyes  must  have  simply  reached  the 
conclusion  that  his  coming  was  but  another  link 
in  the  chain  of  mystery  surrounding  the  house. 

Once  in  the  hall,  the  detective  quietly  closed 
the  door,  making  sure  it  was  fast. 

Enough  light  came  in  through  the  glass  above 
to  show  him  the  stairs. 

There  was  carpet  on  the  floor. 

Near  by  were  folding  doors,  and,  as  they  stood 
ajar,  Darrell  poked  his  head  through,  not  merely 
out  of  curiosity,  but  because  he  felt  that  he  had 
an  interest  in  the  matter. 

The  parlor  was  furnished. 

It  was  no  empty  house  into  which  he  had 
come  thus  surreptitiously. 


no  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

He  listened. 

Not  a  sound  from  within. 

How  strange  it  seemed. 

What  could   it  all  mean? 

Vague  and  even  terrible  ideas  flashed  into  his 
mind — was  Joe  connected  with  some  secret 
cabal  or  society  that  met  here  everyday? 

Perhaps  some  awful  secret  was  gnawing  at 
his  vitals,  and  daily  sapping  his  life. 

What  was  that? 

A  door  slammed  above. 

Eric  was  glad  to  hear  it,  for  he  realized  that 
the  house  had  something  human  about  it. 

As  near  as  he  could  judge  the  sound  came 
from  upstairs. 

Then  he  would  not  have  to  grapple  with  the 
demons  of  the  underground  world. 

At  times  even  the  oddest  fancies  will  surge 
through  the  most  prosaic  mind. 

One  of  the  thoughts  that  had  come  to  him 
was  that  possibly  Joe  had  become  connected 
with  some  gang  of  counterfeiters — he  had  heard 
of  things  just  as  strange — and  although  it  seemed 
a  preposterous  idea  in  connection  with  Joe,  still 
it  had  already  become  apparent  that  there  was 
something  very  strange  connected  with  him  and 
why  not  this  as  well  as  any  other? 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  nx 

Lately  Eric  had  been  reading  Doctor  Jekyll 
and  Mr.  Hyde,  and  his  mind  was  full  of  strange 
fancies  concerning  the  awful  change  that  was 
wont  to  come  over  that  unfortunate  being,  who 
lived  two  lives,  each  unknown  to  the  other. 

It  did  not  seem  possible  that  Joe  Leslie  could 
be  doing  this  exactly,  but  he  might  be  carrying 
on  two  characters  successfully. 

At  his  business  and  his  home  up-town  he  was 
known  as  Joseph  G.  Leslie — on  Twenty-seventh 
Street  he  might  be  Mr.  Lester.  To  tear  the 
mask  away  and  expose  the  truth  was  what 
brought  the  detective  here  now. 

In  the  interest  of  justice  he  was  bound  to  do 
this  much. 

Then  again  he  thought  of  Lillian. 

In  his  indignation  he  wished  she  could  be 
there  to  face  her  husband  when  his  guilty  secret 
was  laid  bare. 

It  might  seem  cruel — so  does  the  hot  iron  of 
the  doctor  when  applied  to  the  marks  left  by  the 
teeth  of  an  enraged  dog,  but  it  is  done  with 
kindness — heroic  treatment  saves  one  from  some- 
thing more  terrible  beyond.  Perhaps,  if  faced 
by  Lillian,  Joe  would  break  down  and  receive  a 
shock  that  would  last  him  all  the  rest  of  his  nat- 
ural life. 


ii2  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

So  the  detective  made  up  his  mind  not  to  toe- 
tray  his  presence  now  if  he  could  help  it,  but 
reserve  the  denouement  to  a  later  date  when 
it  could  be  made  more  dramatic. 

All  he  meant  to  do  now  was  to  secu< s  certain 
evidence  for  future  use. 

The  stairs,  being  carpeted,  gave  forth  no 
sound  when  he  began  ascending. 

He  felt  rather  peculiar  about  thfe  whole  busi- 
ness— had  this  man  been  a  stranger  he  would 
not  have  experienced  this  same  uneasiness;  but 
Joe  Leslie — to  think  that  he  should  be  upon 
the  track  of  his  old  friend,  and  with  such  a  pur- 
pose in  view. 

Once  the  stairs  creaked  under  his  weight  and 
he  stood  still — the  sound  was  preternaturally 
loud  in  an  empty  house;  but  there  was  no  result, 
so  that  he  presently  continued  his  course  of  ex- 
ploration. 

Vehicles  rumbled  past  the  house — he  could 
hear  them  plainly,  as  though  some  window  were 
open  near  at  hand. 

Just  as  he  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs  a 
cough  reached  his  ears — it  was  a  man  who  gave 
utterance  to  it,  probably  Joe. 

No  voices? 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  113 

How  singular! 

Eric  Darrell's  wonder  arose  with  each  passing 
moment — strange  to  say,  he  was  trembling  all 
over  now  with  excitement. 

No  living  soul  had  ever  seen  this  man  in  such 
a  condition  before,  which  fact  went  -to  prove 
how  deep  his  interest  was  in  the  game  he  was 
now  pursuing. 

Not  for  worlds  would  he  have  stopped,  now 
that  his  hand  was  on  the  plow. 

The  end  must  be  near,  and  Joe's  deep  secret 
could  not  long  remain  such — it  must  be  met 
and  dragged  to  the  light. 

Darrell  looked  around  him,  since  he  was 
now  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

The  house  seemed  to.be  furnished  throughout, 
and  yet  there  seemed  an  air  of  desertion  and 
loneliness  about  it,  as  though  it  lacked  the  daily 
care  of  a  housekeeper — little  things  seemed  to 
be  lacking  that  would  indicate  the  fact  of  its  be- 
ing a  habitation  that  was  occupied — where  hu- 
man beings  lived  and  moved. 

Somehow  this  fact  impressed  itself  on  the 
detective's  mind. 

He  did  not  have  much  time  for  thought,  as 
action  was  necessary. 


H4  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

When  the  brave  soldier  finds  himself  face  to 
face  with  the  enemy,  he  does  not  spend  the 
minutes  in  reflection,  but  acts. 

So  with  Eric — he  had  looked  forward  to  this 
period  for  quite  a  time,  and  now  that  it  had 
arrived,  he  was  not  the  one  to  tarry 

Where  was  Joe? 

As  nearly  as  he  could  place  them  the  sounds 
had  come  from  the  front  room. 

He  crept  silently  along  in  that  direction — the 
door  was  open,  and  nothing  prevented  his  see- 
ing the  interior  of  the  apartment. 

It  was  furnished,  but  did  not  contain  a  single 
occupant — light  crept  through  the  inside  blinds, 
sufficient  to  show  him  this  fact,  and  his  wonder 
was  simply  increased  to  a  fever  heat. 

In  the  name  of  heaven,  what  did  all  this 
strange  mystery  mean — where  was  Joe — what 
freak  induced  him  to  come  here,  and— 

An  odd,  crackling  sound  reached  his  ears — 
ah!  it  proceeded  from  a  small  room  used  as  a 
dressing-room,  the  door  of  which  was  closed. 

Eric  crept  over  to  it  and  listened — all  was  as 
still  as  death  within. 

Baffled  in  this  endeavor,  he  leaned  against 
the  door,  pressing  his  ear  close  to  the  »>anel,  to 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  115 

catch  any  voices — if  conspirators  were  gathered 
there  they  must  talk — this  silence  could  not  be 
long  maintained. 

The  door  must  have  been  on  the  latch — at 
any  rate  it  was  not  fastened,  and  as  Eric  leaned 
against  it  this  impediment  to  his  vision  slowly 
gave  way,  opening  a  foot  or  so,  and  Joe  Leslie's 
terrible  secret  was  revealed  to  the  detective's 
eyes. 


CHAPTER   X 

THAT  MEERSCHAUM  PIPE 

In  his  time  Eric  Darrell  had  seen  many 
strange  sights,  and  experienced  odd  sensations; 
but  the  spectacle  that  now  presented  itself  to 
his  wondering  eyes  created  a  feeling  within  him 
such  as  had  never  yet  come  upon  him. 

He  gaped  in  amazement,  scarcely  able  to  be- 
lieve his  senses. 

To  such  a  high  pitch  had  his  expectations 
been  drawn  that  he  looked  for  something  of  a 
startling  nature. 

The  shock  was  tremendous,  and  yet  it  rather 
proceeded  from  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling, 
than  because  the  scene  exceeded  his  expecta- 
tions. 

There  was  but  one  occupant  in  the  small 
apartment,  upon  the  threshold  of  which  he  stood 
when  the  door  gave  way  so  unceremoniously. 

This  was  Joe. 

He  was  dressed  differently  than  when  Eric 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  117 

had  seen  him  enter  the  house,  and  seemed  to 
have  on  an  old  suit  of  clothes,  while  a  soft  hat 
was  drawn  down  upon  his  head. 

He  lay  back  in  an  easy  chair,  from  which  he 
started  up  in  wonder  and  alarm  as  the  door 
was  thus  burst  open. 

Darrell  noted  one  thing. 

In  his  hand  Joe  held  a  large  meerschaum  pipe 
and  the  white  smoke  was  curling  upward  from 
the  end  of  it  in  wreaths. 

Before  him  was  the  conspirator,  caught  in 
the  act,  red-handed. 

No  wonder  Joe  turned  fiery  red. 

The  inside  blind  was  closed,  but  the  window 
appeared  to  be  open. 

Joe  had  a  lamp  lighted — doubtless  the  gas 
was  turned  off  from  the  house,  as  it  generally 
is  from  an  empty  or  unoccupied  building — and 
most  men  prefer  to  see  when  smoking. 

Over  Eric  Darrell  there  swept  a  wave  of  feel- 
ing. All  his  old  regard  for  this  good-natured 
giant  rushed  back  to  him. 

He  held  Joe's  secret. 

Thank  heaven  it  was  not    more  serious. 

As  for  Joe  himself,  not  recognizing  the  other, 
he  sprang  up  in  a  belligerent  way. 


n8  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Hello,  here!  What's  wanted?  "he  demanded. 

"Joe!" 

"The  deuce  take  it — who  are  you?"  uneasily. 

"Eric." 

That  was  enough. 

Leslie  advanced,  holding  out  his  hand  in  a 
sort  of  hesitating,  shamefaced  way. 

"Ah!  old  man,  glad  to  see  you,  but  I  declare 
I  didn't  know  you  at  first." 

"Nor  I  you,  Joe,"  calmly. 

"That's  so — I  do  look  like  a  tramp,  don't  I?" 
with  a  glance  at  his  own  person. 

"It  wasn't  that,  but  I  was  amazed  at  finding 
you  engaged  in  such  a  business  when  you  de- 
clared to  me  you  had  quit  smoking." 

Joe  turned  still  redder  in  confusion. 

"Darrell,  you're  mistaken — I've  never  told  a 
living  man  that !"  he  cried. 

"What!  didn't  you  refuse  my  cigar?" 

"Yes." 

"And  say — " 

"I  had  quit  smoking  cigars  at  the  request 
of  my  wife.  Well,  I  have,  and  not  a  cigar  has 
passed  my  lips  since  that  day." 

Eric  burst  out  laughing. 

"Ah!  Joe,  my   boy,    I  see  it  all.     You   were 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  119 

unable  to  keep  to  the  letter  of  your  promise  and 
you  have  been  maintaining  this  bachelor's  hall 
ever  since,  where  once  a  day  you  have  crept  in 
to  have  a  good  smoke." 

"Eric,  what  you  say  is  true — I  am  a  slave  to 
the  weed,  and  I  dare  not  confess  it  to  my  wife. 
She  despises  such  slaves.  My  ears  have  tingled 
many  a  time  at  the  sarcastic  way  in  which  she 
referred  to  such  poor  devils,  at  the  same  time 
thanking  heaven  that  she  had  a  husband  with 
stamina  enough  to  give  up  the  vile  habit  when 
he  became  civilized." 

Joe  groaned  and  looked  at  his  meerschaum 
pipe  with  a  strange  mixture  of  disgust  and  ven- 
eration. 

He  had  a  sympathetic  auditor,  for  Eric  was 
just  as  deep  in  the  mud  as  he  was  in  the  mire, 
so  far  as  smoking  was  concerned. 

"What  you  say  may  be  true,  Joe,  and  yet  it 
would  be  well  for  you  to  drop  on  your  marrow- 
bones at  once  and  confess  all  to  your  wife." 

"Good  heavens!  do  you  mean  it?" 

"I  do,  indeed." 

"But  I  can't — she  will  despise  me.  I  had 
better  make  a  determined  effort  to  throw  off 
this  wretched  habit,  even  if  it  kills  me." 


I2O  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"You  make  a  mistake  in  one  thing,  old  man. 
I  believe  your  wife,  instead  of  reproaching  you, 
will  throw  her  arms  around  your  neck  and  tell 
you  to  smoke  after  this  when  you  please." 

"Goodness  gracious!  why  should  she  do  this?" 

"Because  she  will  be  so  delighted  to  discover 
that  it  is  no  worse." 

"No  worse — it  is  as  bad  as  it  could  be  in  her 
estimation.  I  shall  feel  like  a  criminal,"  and 
the  good-natured  giant  shuddered. 

He  was  not  accustomed  to  deceit. 

"Well,  you  mark  my  words— she  will  re- 
proach you  less  than  you  believe." 

"You  speak  in  riddles — why  should  she  be 
delighted  to  know  it  is  no  worse — why  are  you 
here — Heavens  alive,  man,  has  she  employed 
you  to  watch  me — does  she  already  know  I  am 
engaged  in  this  shameful  deceit  ?" 

He  poured  these  questions  out. 

Already  a  light  was  beginning  to  shine  before 
his  eyes. 

The  detective  smiled. 

"Thank  your  stars,  Joe  Leslie,  that  when  you 
face  your  sweet  wife  you  have  nothing  more  se- 
rious to  confess  than  this  fault." 

"What  did  you  suspect — what  does  she  think?" 
he  asked,  almost  breathlessly. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  xai 

"That  you  were  false  to  her." 

"Darrell,  I'd  sooner  be  torn  to  pieces  than 
be  such  a  wretch,"  he  declared,  vehemently. 

"I  believe  you  now,  Joe,  but  must  confess 
that  up  to  this  very  hour  things  looked  black 
for  you." 

"How  was  that?" 

"Circumstances  were  against  you." 

"Tell  me  all,    Eric — everything." 

The  detective  sees  no  reason  why  he  should  not. 
He  believes  in  this  man  thoroughly  now,  and 
would  trust  him  through  everything. 

So  he  begins  and  tells  him  all. 

Joe's  head  rests  upon  his  hand — the  detective 
could  not  see  his  face,  but  he  knew  how  it 
worked  with  feeling,  and  when  he  described  how 
Lillian  was  dreadfully  shocked  when  she  heard 
of  the  bal  masque  and  Joe's  apparent  presence 
there,  he  was  not  at  all  surprised  to  see  a  large 
tear  drop  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair. 

With  tears  in  his  eyes  Joe  looked  up. 

"Darrell,  you  ought  to  know  me  better  than 
that.  I  am  not  that  kind  of  a  man.  My  whole 
life  is  wrapped  up  in  my  wife,  and  if  I  should 
lose  her,  either  by  death  or  any  other  means,  it 
would  kill  me  outright." 


xaa  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"I  believe  it,  Joe,  I  do  indeed." 

Then  he  finished  his  story. 

Joe  was  greatly  wrought  up. 

"I  shall  go  to  Lillian  at  once — she  shall  hear 
the  truth  from  my  lips  first,  not  yours.  Perhaps 
she  will  forgive  me.  If  she  says  the  word  I  will 
break  my  pipe" — with  a  sort  of  sob — "and  quit 
the  whole  infernal  business  if  it  kills  me." 

"I  can  arrange  it  so  that  she  will  beg  you  to 
smoke,  Joe.  Depend  upon  it,  Lillian  has  learned 
that  there  are  evils  a  thousand  times  worse 
than  the  one  habit  to  which  you  are  addicted." 

"See  here,  Eric,  you  don't  believe  this  thing 
of  my  being  at  the  bal  masque?" 

"I  do  not,  and  yet  just  see  how  circumstantial 
evidence  will  hang  a  man.  The  chain  of  evi- 
dence was  complete.  You  went  out  on  an  ap- 
parent quixotic  errand;  I  saw  a  man  with  your 
figure  escort  a  lady  into  that  place;  his  name, 
singularly  enough  was  Joe,  and  I  heard  some 
one  say  she  was  a  Mrs.  Lester  or  something  of 
that  kind,  while  I  heard  her  tell  the  driver 
Twenty-seventh  Street." 

"Good  heavens!"  muttered  poor  Joe,  appalled. 

"Worse  still,  your  wife  showed  me  a  picture 
of  her  sister,  at  my  request.  I  pretended  to  be 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  123 

interested  and  spoke  of  your  joking  me,  and  my 
promise  to  call  when  that  sister  came  from 
California. 

"To  my  horror  I  heard  that  man  whom  I  sup- 
posed to  be  you,  call  that  dark-haired  lady  at 
the  masquerade  by  that  name." 

"Marian?" 

"Yes.  You  can  imagine  the  awful  feelings 
it  aroused  within  me ;  the  whole  thing  seemed  so 
plain  that  I  was  appalled.  Joe  Leslie  dropped 
from  the  high  place  he  held  in  my  esteem  and 
at  that  time  I  almost  hated  you." 

"I  don't  wonder  at  it,  old  fellow,  and  think 
all  the  more  of  you  for  it." 

"Later  on  I  became  vacillating — several  things 
occurred  that  broke  me  up  completely,  among 
others  the  statement  made  by  your  driver." 

"How  was  that?" 

"He  declared  you  were  down  town  all  the 
evening  and  to  prove  it  stated  that  he  had 
talked  with  an  officer  I  know  just  at  midnight." 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

"I  proved  this  true,  and  that  aroused  my  sus- 
picions for  the  first  time.  If  you  were  down 
town  you  could  not  be  at  the  bal  masque  at  the 
same  minute— for  it  was  a  few  minutes  before 


124  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

midnight  that  the  melee  occurred  and  the  man  1 
thought  to  be  you  floored  his  assailants." 

"I  see  I  must  hunt  up  this  Joe  Lester  and  dis- 
cover who  and  what  he  is.  Perhaps  we  have 
been  playing  the  two  Dromios  again." 

Joe  had  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and 
locked  the  treasure  up  in  a  closet  in  the  larger 
front  room,  where  his  clothes  were  hanging. 

The  artful  villain  was  wont  to  change  his 
garments  when  he  entered  here,  in  order  that  he 
might  not  go  home  saturated  with  tobacco  smoke. 

Eric  saw  the  whole  thing  plainly. 

He  felt  in  exuberant  spirits. 

So  far  as  Joe  was  concerned,  the  whole  busi- 
ness had  turned  out  delightfully. 

Just  then  the  detective's  mind  did  not  turn  in 
any  other  direction.. 

He  forgot  all  about  the  other  side  of  the  case, 
and  seemed  to  consider  the  matter  settled. 

Peace  would  again  come  upon  the  disturbed 
family  relations  of  his  friend  Joe,  and  all  be  as 
lovely  as  of  yore. 

Of  course  Lillian  would  be  only  too  glad  to 
close  up  the  matter  by  forgiving  her  husband. 

His  sin  was  not  a  grievous  one,  and  so  great 
would  be  her  relief  at  finding  him  faithful  and 
true  that  she  would  gladly  forget  it  all. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  125 

Under  these  circumstances  Darrell  watched 
Joe  get  into  his  clothes  with  sincere  satisfaction. 

He  had  never  been  more  worried  over  any- 
thing than  he  was  with  this,  and  now  that  it  had 
all  turned  out  so  well,  he  felt  a  satisfaction 
that  seemed  to  permeate  his  whole  system. 

When  Joe  had  dressed  himself,  he  seemed  to 
have  made  up  his  mind  about  a  certain  thing. 

Taking  the  beloved  meerschaum  pipe  out  of 
the  closet,  he  laid  it  in  a  case  and  tucked  the 
whole  under  his  arm. 

"What's  that  for?"  asked  Eric. 

"She  shall  smash  it  to  pieces — I  cannot." 

"Well,  I  don't  believe  Lillian  ever  will.  Make 
a  clean  breast  of  it,  old  fellow." 

"I  intend  to." 

"Then  you  are  safe — she  is  too  gentle  not  to 
forgive,  and  I  expect  to  see  you  soon  smoking 
a  cigar  on  the  street  like  other  men." 

"No,  no,  I  can't  do  that — I  would  feel  like  a 
wretch  to  ever  do  that." 

"Mark  my  words,  she  will  insist  on  it — her 
scruples  must  vanish,  and  I  expect  she  will 
really  enjoy  the  flavor  of  a  fine  cigar  soon, 
when  her  Joe  is  at  the  other  end  of  it." 

Joe  smiled  dismally — he  realized  that  he  had 


ia6  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

business  before  him  that  would  try  his  nerves, 
for  as  a  man  he  had  pride  and  must  now  humble 
himself  before  the  woman  he  loved !  But  his 
mind  was  made  up,  and  he  actually  felt  already 
as  though  a  load  had  been  taken  from  his  shoul- 
ders— just  as  the  prodigal  son,  as  soon  as  he 
decided  to  return  to  his  father,  experienced  a 
new  feeling  of  peace. 

They  left  the  house  and  parted  at  the  elevat- 
ed station,  one  going  up  the  other  down  town. 

As  he  reached  the  platform,  the  detective 
suddenly  felt  a  cold  shiver  go  over  him  at  sight 
of  a  man. 

It  was  Paul  Prescott,  the  artist. 

There  rushed  over  Eric  the  memory  of  that 
other  half  of  the  mystery,  and  he  groaned — this 
time  his  sympathy  was  with  Joe  and  not  his  wife. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ALL  IS  FORGIVEN 

Joe  Leslie  never  felt  so  mean  in  all  his  life  as 
when  he  approached  his  house  up  town  on  this 
evening. 

He  knew  he  had  been  playing  a  miserable  part 
in  deceiving  his  wife  with  regard  to  his  smoking, 
but  subterfuge  was  something  generally  foreign 
to  Joe's  nature,  and  this  made  it  seem  all  the 
worse  to  him. 

Still,  he  did  not  sneak  along  in  a  cringing  way. 
Never  had  he  walked  more  uprightly — for  he 
could  look  people  in  the  face  now,  at  least,  and 
was  determined  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it. 

Lillian  was  watching  from  the  parlor  window, 
herself  hidden  from  view. 

She  thought  she  had  never  seen  Joe  looked  so 
manly,  as  when  he  walked  up  to  the  house,  and 
her  heart  seemed  cold  to  think  that  it  may  have 
been  the  smiles  of  some  rival  that  brought  this 

look  of  pleasure  to  his  face. 
127 


128  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Thus  a  man  may  feel  mean,  and  at  the  same 
time  appear  joyous. 

When  Joe  entered  the  house  he  saw  a  light 
back  in  the  library. 

Straight  in  that  direction  he  walked. 

Lillian  was  seated  there  apparently  reading — 
how  was  he  to  know  she  had  hastily  flown 
hither  from  her  lookout  ? 

Joe  softly  closed  the  door.   Another  minute  and 
he  stood  before  his  wife. 

"Lillian,  my  wife,  look  up." 

Somewhat  startled,  she  did  so. 

"Why,  Joe!" 

"I  want  you  to  know  what  a  base  man  you 
have  for  a  husband,  Lillian." 

"You  mean — "  she  gasped. 

"That  I  have  a  confession  to  make,  and  I  am 
determined  to  make  it  now." 

"A  confession,  Joseph — "  and  the  little  wo- 
man gained  her  feet. 

Her  face  was  white  with  a  sudden  fear — she 
even  believed  Joe  was  about  to  tell  her  some 
terrible  truth — that  he  had  never  loved  her — 
perhaps  nad  been  married  ere  he  knew  her. 

At  any  rate  she  was  dreadfully  alarmed. 

**Yes,  I  have  been  a  villain  to  treat   the  best 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  129 

little  woman  in  all  the  world  so,  but  this  old 
love  was  with  me  long  before  I  knew  you — it 
had  become  a  part  of  my  very  life.  I  never 
knew  how  strong  it  was  until  lately.  God  knows 
I  have  tried  to  shake  it  off,  and  be  faithful  to 
my  promise,  but  I  am  weak.  I  have  sinned,  Lil- 
lian, my  wife,  and  I  stand  here  humbly  to  ask 
if  you  can  ever  forgive  me." 

He  stood  there  with  bowed  head,  proud  even 
in  his  humility. 

"But  oh,  Joe,  to  think — that  woman — "  and 
she  burst  into  a  torrent  of  tears. 

He  seized  her  hands  and  took  them  down 
from  her  face. 

"Good  heavens,  Lillian,  I  forgot  that  you  be- 
lieved that.  It  is  no  woman — I  have  never  been 
unfaithful  to  you  in  word  or  deed — that  was  not 
I  whom  Darrell  saw  at  the  bal  masque  last 
night,  dear.  I  am  yours,  wretched  man  that  I 
am,  but  yours  alone,  always." 

"But  what— I  don't  understand — you  say  you 
have  sinned  and  yet  that  you  are  innocent.  Oh, 
T:e,  please  tell  me  everything." 

"I  would  be  a  base  wretch  if  I  did  not.  Do 
you  remember  making  me  give  a  promise  be- 
fore we  were  married,  Lillian?" 


130  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Not  about  your  cigars,  Joe?" 

"That's  it,"  eagerly;  "and  for  a  time  I  suf- 
fered terrible  torments  in  keeping  it  to  the  let- 
ter; but  after  a  while  the  devil  tempted  me.  He 
said,  'You  promised  to  give  up  cigars — nothing 
was  said  about  your  pipe. '  Lillian,  like  a  weak 
fool  I  gave  in,  and  daily  almost,  for  months,  I 
have  gone  to  the  house  I  own  in  Twenty-seventh 
Street,  changed  my  clothes  and  enjoyed  half  an 
hour's  smoke. 

"It  was  a  cruel  deception  on  you,  and  I  have 
felt  like  a  sneak  in  doing  it.  Thanks  to  Darrell 
my  eyes  have  been  opened  and  I  am  here  to 
confess  all,  asking  forgiveness." 

Lillian  could  hardly  believe  her  ears — she 
turned  a  face  illumined  upon  her  husband. 

"Joe,  dear  Joe,  is  this  your  dreadful   secret?" 

"It  is,"  solemnly. 

"You  are  sure  you  have  told  me  everything?" 

"There  is  not  another  thing  I  have  ever  kept 
from  you,  my  darling." 

"And  you  love  no  one  else?" 

"Not  a  living  soul  but  my  wife." 

"Oh!  I  am  so  glad." 

With  these  words  she  flew  into  his  arms,  and 
Joe,  bending  down,  gravely  kissed  his  own. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  131 

"You  are  sure  you  can  forgive  me,  dearest?" 

"Forgive  you — oh,  Joe,  I  shall  love  tobacco 
after  this." 

"See,  I  have  brought  my  pipe  here  for  you 
to  destroy — I  couldn't  quite  do  it  myself,  for 
I've  had  it  many  years.  But  you  shall  be  the 
executioner." 

"Not  for  worlds — if  this  is  the  only  rival  I 
have  to  fear  I  can  share  my  place  in  your  heart 
with  it.  You  shall  smoke  after  dinner,  and  I 
myself  will  fill  your  pipe." 

He  kissed  her  fingers  tenderly. 

"Ah!  dearest,  what  a  fool  I  have  been  all  this 
while,  to  suffer  as  I  have  when  by  confession  I 
might  have  long  since  been  absolved.  But  I 
am  sincere  in  my  resolve  to  stop  smoking." 

"And  I  am  just  as  firmly  resolved  that  you 
shall  not.  I  am  cured  of  my  folly.  But  for 
that  foolish  prejudice  you  would  never  have 
been  led  to  deceive  me." 

They  held  sweet  communion  for  some  little 
time,  and  all  seemed  as  lovely  as  during  the 
bright  days  of  their  courtship. 

Then  the  dinner  bell  rang. 

Together  they  went  down,  Joe's  arm  around 
his  wife,  as  though  they  were  lovers. 


132  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

After  the  meal  was  over  they  again  sought 
the  library,  and  chatted. 

"Now  for  your  pipe,  Joe,    dear,"  said  Lillian. 

He  protested. 

It  was  of  no  avail — she  was  determined  that 
he  had  suffered  enough — better  love  with  a  cigar 
in  the  house  than  the  absence  of  both. 

Few  men  will  condemn  Joe's  weakness. 

In  other  respects  he  could  be  adamant,  but 
he  owned  up  to  being  very  fond  of  a  smoke. 

So  Lillian  took  his  bag  of  tobacco  out  of  the 
case  which  also  held  the  pipe,  filled  the  bowl 
and  brought  it  to  him. 

He  kissed  her  on  the  spot — what  else  could 
he  do  ? 

"A  match,  please,  dear,  since  you  insist  upon 
it — I  am  out  of  them." 

"And  the  holder  is  also  empty — stay,  here  is 
a  scrap  of  paper  that  will  do." 

She  took  a  piece  out  of  the  waste  basket  and, 
without  looking  at  it,  twisted  a  lighter. 

This  she  held  in  the  gas  jet,  and,  lighted, 
brought  it  over  to  Joe,  who  calmly  laid  it  on 
his  pipe,  puffed  a  few  times,  and  then,  blowing 
out  the  flame,  knocked  the  red  ashes  off  the 
lighter,  laying  it  on  the  table  for  possible  use 
again. 


Then  he  eyed  his  wife  quizzically. 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  a  smile. 

"I  feel  like  a  brute,  Lillian,  to  inflict  such  a 
torment  upon  you.  Say  the  word,  and  the 
whole  thing  goes  forever." 

"Not  I,"  she  replied;  "I  never  knew  how 
fragrant  the  odor  was.  If  you  must  smoke,  my 
husband,  you  shall  do  it  as  other  gentlemen  do, 
in  your  own  home,  but  always  smoke  the  best 
cigars  and  few  of  them." 

This  was  charming,  Joe  thought. 

He  had  not  been  so  happy  for  months. 

It  often  happens  that  the  skies  are  clearest 
just  before  the  worst  of  storms. 

Joe  saw  no  cloud  on  the  horizon. 

All  the  same  it  was  there,  and  ready  to  blot 
out  the  sunshine  like  magic. 

It  came  about  in  a  peculiar  way. 

Lillian  had  settled  down  to  read  a  book  she 
was  interested  in,  and  Joe  had  his  paper. 

While  he  read  he  mechanically  fingered  the 
lighter  with  the  charred  end,  and  untwisted  it. 

Finally  he  looked  over  his  paper  at  his  wife 
and  mused. 

How  good  she  was  to  make  his  penance  so 
light  and  how  happy  he  ought  to  be  in  the  pos- 
session of  such  a  dear  little  woman. 


»34  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Evidently  Joe  had  forgotten  something. 

He  found  his  pipe  had  gone  out  during  his 
musing,  and  taking  hold  of  the  paper  she  had 
twisted  for  him,  was  about  to  make  a  lighter  out 
of  it  again,  when  he  received  what  seemed  to  be 
an  electric  shock. 

A  name  had  caught  his  eye  on  the  paper. 

He  held  it  up  closer. 

Yes,  there  could  be  no  mistake — it  was  a  note 
his  wife  had  twisted  up — by  some  mistake  it 
had  come  into  his  waste  basket. 

What  was  left  of  it  after  the  burning  he  read : 

"if  you  can  contrive  to  conceal  it  from  your  huc- 
band  until  then,  all  will  be  well.      I  think  I  can 
rely  upon  your  discretion — everything  goes   on 
well,  and  our  secret  is,  I  believe,  safe. 
"Faithfully  yours, 

"PAUL  PRESCOTT." 

When  poor  Joe  had  taken  this  in  he  felt  as 
though  he  had  been  plunged  into  an  icy  bath. 

The  joyous  spirit  of  contentment  that  had 
pervaded  his  whole  being  was  gone. 

Suspicion,  jealousy,  unrest,  came  trooping  in 
with  renewed  force. 

His  own  late  experience  should  have  been  a 
lesson  to  him,  but  it  was  not. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  135 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  fold  the  paper 
up  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

Why  he  did  this  he  often  wondered  later  on, 
when  the  right  course  would  have  been  to  have 
handed  it  to  Lillian  for  explanation. 

He  looked  at  his  paper  again,  but  did  not  see 
that  he  had  it  upside  down. 

Thought  was  busy. 

He  was  trying  to  convince  himself  that  it  was 
none  of  his  business  anyhow — that  he  had  had 
his  secret  and  why  not  Lillian. 

Then  again  he  remembered  that  she  was  his 
wife — what,  concerned  her  concerned  him. 

At  any  rate  Joe's  sudden  happiness  was  over- 
cast— clouds  had  covered  the  sky. 

He  began  to  feel  miserable. 

As  it  was  not  his  design  that  Lillian  should 
see  this,  he  assumed  a  cheerfulness  he  was  far 
from  feeling. 

The  evening  passed. 

Joe  wished  to  get  in  a  closet  at  one  end  of 
the  room,  but  found  it  locked. 

"I  wonder  where  the  key  of  this  door  is.  I'm 
sure  I  didn't  take  it." 

Accidentally  he  chanced  to  look  toward  Lillian 
while  speaking,  and  was  almost  startled  to  see 
the  color  fly  into  her  face. 


136  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"I  beliere  I  left  it  up-stairs,  Joe.  If  you 
really  want  it  I  might  go  up  and  see  if  I  can 
get  it." 

"Oh!  no,  dear,  it  doesn't  matter.  Another 
time  will  do  as  well,"  he  said  carelessly. 

At  the  same  time,  for  the  life  of  him  he  could 
not  help  associating  her  action  with  the  letter 
received  from  Paul  Prescott. 

It  worried  him. 

He  was  diverted  from  this  state  by  Lillian,  who 
asked  about  the  clerk,  so  Joe  told  all  that  had 
been  done  the  night  before—  he  had  spoken  of 
it  ere  now,  but  had  not  given  particulars. 

Woman-like  she  was  interested,  and  de- 
clared she  loved  him  better  because  of  the  mercy 
he  had  shown  for  the  boy. 

Then  Lillian  retired. 

Joe  sat  there  a  long  time  thinking. 

Finally  he  got  up  and  went  over  to  the  closet 
as  if  to  effect  an  entrance,  trying  several  of  the 
keys  on  his  bunch  but  with  no  success. 

Then  he  walked  up  and  down. 

At  times  he  was  dejected  and  again  his  face 
seemed  to  speak  of  sudden  passion. 

Human  nature  is  a  strange  thing. 

A  man  enters  an  omnibus  and  frowns  to  hear 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  137 

the  growls  of  those  comfortably  settled  as  they 
make  room  for  him — presently  another  comes 
in,  and  his  growls  at  being  forced  to  squeeze 
into  a  smaller  compass  exceed  the  rest. 

Joe,  upstairs,  discovered  the  missing  key  on 
the  dainty  dresser  of  his  wife's  room — he  took 
it  in  his  hand,  started  for  the  door,  stopped, 
made  an  impatient  gesture,  and  returned  the 
key  to  the  place  where  he  found  it. 

"Suspect  her — never, "he muttered,  and  yet  at 
the  very  moment  his  feelings  had  gotten  beyond 
his  control — it  was  pride  that  kept  him  from 
venturing  to  pry  into  her  secret  and  discover 
what  lay  hidden  in  the  library  closet. 

Thus  Joe  had  won  and  lost  a  victory. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  OPIUM  JOINT 

Eric  Darrell  watched  the  man  whom  he  had 
thus  met  on  the  platform  of  the  elevated  station. 
He  wondered  what  magical  power  Paul  Pres- 
cott  possessed  over  Joe  Leslie's  wife. 

The  man  was  odd  looking,  as  a  genius  is  ever 
supposed  to  be,  but  there  was  nothing  about 
him  to  indicate  that  he  might  be  a  masher  or 
a  heart-breaker. 

Darrell  looked  him  over,  taking  a  mental 
measurement  of  the  man,  as  he  had  a  dim  idea 
the  time  might  be  near  at  hand  when  they  would 
be  on  opposite  sides. 

The  other  left  the  train,  Darrell  followed 
him. 

Presently  he  saw  a  woman  join  the  artist  and 
hand  him  a  note,  which  he  seemed  to  read  with 
great  eagerness,  then  he  hurried  off. 

The   keen   eyes  of   the   detective   had    noted 

something  of  extreme  importance. 

138 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  139 

When  Prescott  believed  he  put  the  note  away 
in  his  pocket,  in  reality  it  fluttered  down  to  the 
pavement  as  he  hastened  away. 

In  just  five  seconds  by  the  watch  it  was  in 
the  possession  of  Eric  Darrell. 

He  then  continued  on  his  way  to  his  rooms. 

Reaching  his  den  he  changed  his  appearance, 
and  appeared  in  his  natural  figure.  Then  he 
took  out  the  paper  just  found  and  eagerly  scru- 
tinized it;  not  that  he  was  particularly  interested 
in  the  secrets  of  Paul  Prescott,  but  the  artist  had 
crossed  his  path,  and  hence  all  that  he  did 
should  be  scrutinized. 

As  he  suspected,  the  writing  was  in  a  lady's 
chirography — so  many  ladies  write  alike,  as 
though  taught  by  a  certain  school,  that  indi- 
viduality is  lost. 

This  is  what  the  detective  read,  and  it  opened 
his  eyes  in  an  astonishing  manner: 

"My  beloved  Paul — I  consent  at  last  to  your 
proposition — in  flight  alone  we  can  be  safe.  I 
shall  be  ready  when  you  come  to  take  me.  He 
will  be  like  a  tiger  let  loose — I  know  his  passion. 
I  believe  he  would  have  killed  me  ere  now  had 
he  suspected  our  secret.  Carry  out  your  plan 
— I  understand,  and  am  willing  to  fly  from  an 
uncongenial  home  to  the  one  you  will  make  for 
me.  With  love,  your  own  .  L." 


140     -  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

That  was  all.      Heaven  knows  it  was  enough. 

Darrell  let  the  paper  drop  on  the  table  with 
a  sharp  cry  of  pain. 

"Poor  Joe!  poor  honest  old  Joe!  You  thought 
you  were  deceiving  your  wife  past  forgiveness 
because  you  chose  to  smoke  a  pipe  in  secret, 
and  here  she  conspires  to  leave  you  in  the  lurch. 
Joe  is  the  ogre  referred  to,  savage  as  a  tiger. 
Woman — well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  want  to 
know  her  sister  after  all.  I  never  was  so  deceived 
in  all  my  life.  It  is  a  shame — an  accursed  shame, 
and  that  villain  shall  pay  dearly  for  it  all." 

Then  he  examined  the  note  again,  endeavoring 
to  read  between  the  lines. 

His  indignation  grew  apace. 

Joe  had  proven  himself  pure  gold,  and  he  had 
more  confidence  in  him  than  ever,  but  there  was 
something  here  that  needed  investigation,  and 
the  case  looked  black  for  Lillian. 

The  note  was  signed  with  an  L. 

However,  Darrell,  always  cautious,  was  not 
ready  to  condemn  without  a  hearing — what  he 
had  already  seen  this  night  taught  him  the  fal- 
lacy of  circumstantial  evidence. 

First  of  all  he  must  secure  a  scrap  of  Mrs. 
Leslie's  handwriting  and  compare  it  with  that 
which  he  held  in  his  hand. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  141 

That  could  be  done  in  the  morning  he  had  no 
doubt — it  would  not  prove  a  formidable  task  to 
one  of  his  executive  ability. 

There  was  an  ugly  look  about  the  business  he 
did  not  like,  and  he  was  anxious  to  be  at  the 
truth. 

About  eight  o'clock,  having  had  his  supper, 
and  made  certain  inquiries  that  put  him  into 
possession  of  facts  he  desired  to  know,  Darrell 
found  himself  watching  for  Paul  Prescott  at  the 
lodgings  of  the  artist. 

It  was  the  desire  of  the  detective  to  acquaint 
himself  with  some  of  the  customs  of  the  man 
whom  he  meant  to  investigate. 

This  was  always  his  plan  when  engaged  in 
such  a  business — he  found  it  paid  to  size  a  man 
up  and  see  what  his  habits  were. 

When  a  man  was  suspected  of  being  a  forger, 
or  a  check  raiser,  or  a  defaulter,  Darrell's  very 
first  action  was  to  discover  who  his  usual  com- 
panions were,  where  he  passed  his  leisure  time, 
and  whether  he  was  addicted  to  little  vices. 
His  secret  character  always  told  the  story. 

A  young  man  might  be  a  Sunday-school 
teacher,  and  apparently  as  straight  as  a  die  to 
all  outward  appearances,  but  if  Darrell  on  track- 


142  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

ing  him  found  that  he  secretly  frequented  gam- 
bling houses  he  knew  he  had  his  man. 

What  does  it  avail  if  the  outside  of  the  peach 
is  fair  to  gaze  upon  when  all  is  rotten  below? 

So  he  now  desired  to  learn  what  this  peculiar 
looking  artist  really  was. 

He  had  a  good  reputation  among  people  gen- 
erally, but  then  this  counted  as  little. 

Much  dross  might  be  taken  for  pure  gold  did 
not  the  assay er  apply  his  tests. 

That  was  what  Darrell  did — looked  into  each 
man's  private  character,  unknown  to  the  in- 
dividual under  the  scrutiny. 

He  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  the  art- 
ist would  come  out,  and  in  this  he  appeared 
to  make  no  mistake.  Sure  enough  Prescott  ap- 
peared. 

He  was  evidently  off  for  the  evening,  but  did 
not  dress  as  though  he  meant  to  spend  it  in 
fashionable  society. 

Darrell  followed  him  to  a  certain  club  where 
artists  were  wont  to  congregate,  and  here  the 
other  seemed  quite  a  favorite. 

At  half-past  eleven    Prescott   left   this   place. 

He  did  not  head  toward  home. 

On  the  contrary  he   seemed  ill   at  ease,    and 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  143 

looked  around  him  once  or  twice  as  though  he 
were  afraid  lest  some  of  his  fellows  at  the  club 
should  be  near. 

This  action  in  itself  was  suspicious  to  Eric — it 
indicated  that  the  artist  had  certainh  abits  which 
he  desired  to  keep  a  secret  even  from  those 
who  would  have  thought  the  least  of  it. 

Darrell's  curiosity  was  at  once  aroused. 

He  realized  that  now  the  game  would  prob- 
ably be  worth  the  hunting. 

At  any  rate,  since  the  opportunity  was  now 
given  him,  he  was  determined  to  learn  more 
about  the  artist  than  he  had  known  before. 

Paul  Prescott  headed  down  town,  boarding  a 
Third  Avenue  street  car  near  Fourteenth  Street. 
On  the  same  car,  out  in  front,  stood  Eric,  enjoy- 
ing the  bracing  night  air. 

He  could  see  without  being  seen,  and  man- 
aged to  keep  an  eye  on  the  artist.  When  he  saw 
the  other  finally  rise  he  knew  he  was  about  to 
leave  the  car,  and  the  detective  forestalled  him. 

Once  on  the  pavement  he  waited  for  his  man 
and  then  shadowed  him. 

Darrell  was  not  greatly  surprised  at  what  he 
learned — the  place  he  entered  was  an  opium 
joint,  kept  by  a  Chinaman  and  an  American  in 


144  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

partnership,  probably  the  largest  about  town. 
Here  a  good  class  of  customers  were  wont  to 
resort,  and  among  others  several  actors,  a  doc- 
tor, a  well  known  jurist,  a  writer,  together  with 
several  women,  whose  attire  and  jewelry  proved 
them  to  belong  to  the  upper  circle. 

Many  a  man's  history  received  a  downward 
impetus  dating  from  the  hour  he  first  entered 
this  den  of  iniquity. 

Darrell  knew  it  well. 

He  had  been  in  it  a  number  of  times  in  the 
course  of  the  last  year — those  whom  he  hunted 
had  come  here. 

A  clerk  had  robbed  his  employer  for  money  to 
pay  the  opium  fiend — once  the  habit  gains  full 
sway  and  the  victim  will  do  anything  on  earth  in 
order  to  get  money  to  pay  for  a  few  pipes  and 
an  hour  of  the  peculiar  drunken  fancy. 

Knowing  the  ropes  was  of  assistance  to  the 
detective  now 

He  went  in,  and  assuming  the  eager,  trembling 
manner  of  an  habitue  demanded  a  bunk  and  a 
pipe.  All  the  while  he  used  his  eyes. 

The  room  was  supplied  with  lounges  and  set- 
tees— the  usual  bunks  were  in  another  apart- 
ment where  the  Chinese  and  cheaper  grade  of 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  145 

smokers  could  indulge  their  pet  vice  for  a  small- 
er sum. 

This  place  was  furnished  with  something  of 
Oriental  splendor,  and  the  detective  could  not 
but  admire  the  barbaric  taste  of  the  proprietor 

The  couches  spread  around  were  soft  and  in- 
viting, Turkish  in  their  make — some  had  curtains 
partly  drawn,  so  that  the  occupant  was  half 
screened. 

Three  of  these  were  occupied  by  women. 

This  was  no  uncommon  sight. 

That  two  of  them  wore  veils  was  evidence 
that  they  had  not  yet  been  hardened  by  the 
drug;  but  all  this  would  come  in  time. 

The  third  had  thrown  her  veil  back,  and  her 
set  face  could  be  seen,  the  eyes  staring  into  va- 
cancy, as  though  sightless. 

Wretched  sinners  that  they  were,  drawn  on- 
ward by  the  inexorable  god  at  whose  altar  they 
worshiped,  there  was  no  escape  for  them — just 
ahead  lay  the  black  gulf  of  despair,  toward 
which  they  were  hurrying  so  rapidly,  and  soon 
it  must  close  over  them. 

Then — eternity! 

Darrell  never  entered  here  without  a  feeling 
of  commiseration  for  the  poor  souls  thus  linked 
with  the  skeleton  arms  of  death. 


146  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Had  the  opportunity  ever  offered  he  would 
gladly  have  tried  to  save  one  or  more  of  them ; 
but  he  was  well  aware  what  a  difficult  and  well 
nigh  impossible  task  it  is  to  endeavor  to  save  a 
man  against  himself. 

Luckily  Eric  possessed  a  peculiar  disposition 
—what  little  opium  he  smoked  had  no  effect  on 
him,  and  he  had  no  longing  for  the  drug  as  the 
generality  have. 

On  the  contrary  it  almost  nauseated  him,  and 
he  could  only  have  become  an  habitual  opium 
fiend  by  long  and  persistent  practice. 

He  glanced  around  to  see  where  the  artist  had 
deposited  his  frame,  and  discovered  Prescott 
on  the  couch  next  the  second  veiled  lady. 

Whether  this  was  accident  or  design  the  de- 
tective was  unable  to  decide  as  yet,  but  he  had 
an  idea  and  steadily  nursed  it. 

His  feeling  of  mingled  disgust  and  pity  was 
greatest  for  these  women — he  knew  the  one 
whose  face  he  saw  was  a  well-to-do  widow  up 
on  Lexington  Avenue,  and  perhaps  the  others 
were  friends  who  had  come  here  first  in  a  spirit 
of  bravado  and  daring  curiosity,  perhaps  upon  a 
wager,  and  whom  the  fascination  of  the  drug 
had  already  chained  to  the  chariot  wheels  of 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  147 

the  ogre  Opium.  Those  wheels  revolved  slowly 
but  remorselessly — sooner  or  later  they  would 
crush  out  the  life  of  all  who  clung  to  them. 

Had  Prescott  anything  in  common  with  this 
rich  and  brazen  widow  and  her  friends? 

That  he  knew  the  former  Darrell  had  already 
guessed,  for  her  set  expression  had  momentarily 
changed  at  sight  of  the  man,  and  the  detective 
caught  a  look  of  deep  cunning,  which  was  re- 
turned with  a  smile  and  a  nod  from  the  man. 

Eager  to  learn  all  he  could  of  the  artist's  pri- 
vate character,  the  detective  determined  to 
watch  for  all  he  was  worth. 

He  was  also  ready  to  find  out  who  the  two 
veiled  women  were,  who  set  aside  all  modesty 
and  came  to  this  public  opium  joint  because 
they  could  not  properly  prepare  and  enjoy  the 
drug  at  their  homes. 

At  a  certain  hour  no  doubt  a  closed  carriage 
would  be  waiting  to  convey  them  all  home — per- 
haps the  dashing  widow  had  some  male  friend 
present  who  would  serve  as  an  escort. 

Prescott  received  his  pipe,  prepared  his  pill 
and  was  soon  smoking  quietly. 

Silence  rested  upon  the  place — people  came 
not  here  to  converse,  but  to  dream  with  open 


148  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

eyes,  seeing  the  beautiful  things  that  danced  be- 
fore their  eyes  like  a  bright  ignis  fatuus,  always 
eluding  their  grasp,  yet  luring  them  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  toils. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  TERRIBLE    DOOM 

Before  Eric  Darrell  had  been  in  the  place  ten 
minutes  he  made  a  discovery  that  had  a  strong 
bearing  on  the  case. 

This  was  in  reference  to  the  artist. 

Paul  Prescott  had  shown  all  the  signs  of  an 
opium  smoker's  eagerness  to  have  a  draw  at  the 
subtle  drug  when  he  came  in. 

Nevertheless,  Eric  had  already  decided  that 
much  of  this  was  assumed. 

His  own  experience  showed  how  such  a  thing 
could  be ;  hence,  he  believed  another  might  copy 
the  same  signs  of  distress  with  equal  success. 

Then  Prescott  had  a  reason  for  coming  here 
other  than  the  desire  to  smoke. 

What  could  it  be  ? 

Darrell  had  eyes,  and  he  was  able  to  form 
conclusions  very  speedily. 

He  knew  that  the  presence  of  the  dark-veiled 
woman  in  the  bunk  adjoining  that  taken  by  the 

artist,  was  what  had  drawn  him. 
149 


150  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Circumstances  pointed  to  this  fact — their 
heads  were  close  together,  one  resting  upon  the 
right,  the  other  upon  the  left  side. 

The  detective's  thoughts  were  busy. 

He  remembered  the  note. 

Could  this  veiled  creature  be  the  party  signing 
that  missive  ? 

According  to  the  conclusions  he  had  already 
drawn  this  could  not  be  so,  for  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  that  the  writer  must  be  Lillian,  and 
only  waited  to  prove  this  fact. 

Who  then  was  the  veiled  lady? 

Bah!  such  a  man  as  Paul  Prescott  might  be 
engaged  in  half  a  dozen  little  love  affairs  at  one 
and  the  same  time. 

He  would  finally  abandon  all  the  rest  for  the 
charmer  who  held  his  fickle  heart  most  heavily 
chained,  or  else  whose  bank  account  was-  the 
most  promising. 

To  a  man  of  Darr ell's  steadiness  of  purpose, 
there  was  something  almost  revolting  about  such 
a  character  as  this,  and  yet  he  found  certain 
things  to  study  in  the  artist's  face — points  that 
rather  puzzled  him  when  scrutinized. 

The  man  was  worthy  of  being  analyzed. 

There  might  be  more  to  him  than  even  ap- 
peared upon  the  surface. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  151 

Darrell  was  wide  awake,  although  he  pre- 
tended to  be  already  under  the  magic  influence. 

He  was  soothed  by  the  odor  of  the  opium, 
without  giving  way  to  it,  and  watched  the  coup- 
le across  the  way. 

The  hanging  curtains  partly  concealed  him, 
and  he  was  sure  a  note  passed  from  one  to  the 
other.  If  the  girl  thus  heavily  veiled  was  in  the 
charge  of  the  widow,  the  latter  did  not  seem  in 
a  condition  to  watch  over  her  ward,  for  she  had 
given  herself  up  wholly  to  her  dreams. 

In  the  silence  of  this  den  of  human  misery, 
where  each  victim  was  bound  to  his  neighbor  by 
the  same  chains  that  made  him  a  slave,  a  long 
stride  was  taken  on  this  night  toward  the  ob- 
livion of  death. 

Strange  scenes  sometimes  occur  in  these 
places,  and  one  was  on  the  tapis  for  this  night. 

So  interested  had  the  detective  been  in  watch- 
ing the  couple  opposite,  that  he  seldom  glanced 
at  any  of  the  others. 

By  mere  chance  his  eyes  alighted  upon  the 
second  veiled  woman,  and  at  the  same  moment 
he  saw  that  something  was  wrong. 

She  had  swept  her  veil  aside,  and  the  light  re- 
vealed a  face  at  once  handsome  and  dissipated 
— she  had  been  a  beauty  earlier  in  life. 


152  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Just  now  this  face  was  distorted.  Pain  racked 
it. 

Eric  Darrell  saw  the  awful  hand  of  death 
there — he  knew  the  wretched  woman  must 
have  some  heart  trouble  which  was  aggravated 
by  the  opium,  and  that  she  was  dying. 

He  beckoned  to  the  Yankee  who  represented 
the  American  side  of  the  firm. 

Then  he  pointed  to  the  struggling  woman. 

The  other  sprang  to  her. 

There  was  a  gasp  and  all  was  over — death  had 
come  to  her  in  the  opium  den. 

By  this  time  Eric  was  out  on  the  floor,  and 
it  was  well  he  happened  to  be  there,  for  the  man 
showed  the  white  feather  at  once,  fearing  lest  a 
thing  of  this  kind  would  ruin  his  business. 

Luckily  a  strong  hand  was  at  the  helm. 

The  orders  Eric  gave  were  obeyed — no  one 
was  allowed  to  leave  the  place. 

Most  of  those  present  manifested  no  interest 
in  the  game — 'their  minds  were  wholly  taken  up 
with  heavenly  visions — death  might  come  and 
go  without  their  notice. 

Eric  knew  what  must  be  done. 

The  woman  was  elegantly  dressed — she  was 
no  doubt  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  citizen,  and  if  it 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  153 

were  known  that  she  had  expired  in  this  fash- 
ionable opium  joint  the  shame  would  be  terrible. 

He  aroused  the  widow. 

The  other  veiled  lady  was  trembling,  having 
gained  her  feet,  but  she  would  answer  no  ques- 
tions, only  sob  and  wring  her  hands,  while  the 
artist  pretended  not  to  notice  any  one,  though 
eagerly  taking  it  all  in. 

When  the  dashing  widow  was  brought  out  of 
her  dreams  and  made  to  realize  the  truth,  she 
too  seemed  overwhelmed. 

Eric  took  hold  of  her. 

His  strong  mind  controlled  hers,  and  he  soon 
made  her  see  how  essential  it  was  that  this  awful 
business  be  kept  a  dead  secret. 

She  must  confide  in  him,  giving  the  name  and 
address  of  the  deceased — he  would  then  see  that 
the  body  was  taken  there  unknown  to  a  living 
soul  save  the  driver,  and  the  secret  would  be 
locked  in  the  breast  of  her  husband. 

The  world  she  moved  in  would  attend  her 
funeral,  and  never  dream  that  she  had  died  in 
any  other  place  than  at  home. 

This  gave  the  widow  hope. 

She  whispered  the  lady's  name  and  residence 
to  the  detective,  who  wrote  them  down. 


154  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

He  was  surprised  to  discover  that  her  husband 
was  a  prominent  business  man  down  town. 

It  was  an  awful  business,  but  he  managed  it 
with  great  circumspection — the  body  was  placed 
in  a  hack,  and  the  driver  did  not  know  but  what 
she  was  merely  sick. 

Eric  had  also  discovered  the  name  and  address 
of  the  other  veiled  lady — the  widow  had  given 
it  upon  his  assurance  of  good  faith.  It  was 
Mrs.  Collingwood.  Her  address  was  Lexington 
Avenue. 

Darrell's  actions  were  right  to  the  point  in 
a  business  light. 

His  main  desire  was  to  save  the  poor  husband 
all  the  shame  and  mortification  possible. 

Leaving  the  hack  at  the  curb  he  was  presently 
in  the  presence  of  the  gentleman,  to  whom  he 
broke  the  awful  news  as  gently  as  possible. 

At  first  the  other  was  dreadfully  shocked,  but 
upon  learning  what  bold  measures  the  detective 
had  taken  to  conceal  the  actual  facts,  he  over- 
whelmed the  other  with  thanks. 

Between  them  they  got  the  body  into  the 
house,  Darrell  speaking  to  the  supposed  sick 
lady  in  a  reassuring  way. 

The  driver  was  heavily  feed  and  cautioned  to 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  155 

hold  his  tongue  under  any  and  all  circumstances. 

Darrell  assisted  the  stricken  husband  to  get 
his  dead  up  into  her  room. 

Then  in  the  library  he  heard  the  full  partic- 
ulars from  the  detective. 

Afterwards,  he  insisted  on  telling  his  story — 
how  his  once  lovely  and  affectionate  wife  had 
secretly  taken  to  the  deadly  drug  from  injections 
given  to  make  her  sleep  during  a  spell  of  sickness. 
The  harrowing  tale  has  been  often  repeated  in 
such  a  city  as  New  York — her  power  of  resist- 
ance became  less  and  less  strong,  until  he  could 
do  nothing  with  her. 

Knowing  that  she  had  heart  trouble  he  had 
been  expecting  such  a  catastrophe,  but  never- 
theless, it  had  fallen  with  crushing  force. 

He  was  greatly  indebted  to  the  detective  for 
his  assistance — it  was  possible  that  the  real  facts 
might  be  covered  up,  and  with  the  help  of  his 
family  physician  the  death  be  given  as  simply 
one  from  heart  disease. 

When  Eric  felt  the  gentleman's  grasp  at 
parting,  and  saw  the  tears  upon  his  sad  face, 
he  knew  that  his  visit  to  the  opium  joint  had 
not  been  without  its  reward,  since  he  was  en- 
abled to  bring  deep  satisfaction  to  this  soul  long 


156  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

harrowed  by    the    fear    of  such  a  catastrophe. 

Meanwhile,  he  had  the  address  of  the  veiled 
woman  with  whom  the  artist  had  been  in  com- 
munication at  the  opium  joint. 

At  his  leisure  on  the  morrow  he  could  look 
her  up  and  learn  all  there  was  connected  with 
his  case. 

Such  a  scene  as  the  one  thus  briefly  described 
has  occurred  at  an  opium  den  in  the  great  me- 
tropolis— who  the  ill-fated  lady  was  no  one 
knew,  at  least  the  facts  were  never  made  public, 
and  only  a  few  guessed  the  truth  by  watching 
the  death  column  in  the  dailies. 

The  opium  habit  gains  strength  slowly  in  our 
midst,  but  there  are  more  people  slaves  to  the 
vice  than  the  public  suspects. 

Knowing  the  joint  would  in  all  probability  be 
closed  for  the  remainder  of  the  night,  Eric  made 
no  attempt  to  go  there  but  sought  his  apart- 
ments to  rest. 

The  committee  appointed  to  examine  into  the 
strange  case  of  Leslie  vs.  Leslie  could  report 
progress. 

On  the  morrow  the  work  would  be  resumed, 
and  a  long  stride  taken  toward  the  end. 

This  man  had  a  wonderful   power  over  his 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  157 

mind,  and  could  control  it  at  will.  When  he 
was  ready  to  sleep  he  dismissed  all  thought  and 
secured  solid  rest,  so  that  when  he  woke  up  his 
mind  was  as  clear  as  a  bell.  To  such  a  fact  he 
owed  much  of  his  success. 

With  the  morning  he  was  up  and  out. 

It  was  a  fair  day,  and  Eric  hoped  he  might 
look  upon  this  as  an  emblem  of  luck — that  his 
case  might  prove  as  clear. 

His  first  thought  was  to  get  some  specimen 
of  Mrs.  Leslie's  writing. 

To  do  this  he  must  visit  the  house  but  waited 
until  Joe  would  probably  be  on  his  way  down  to 
his  business. 

Then  he  went  to  the  dwelling  up  town. 

He  asked  to  see  Mrs.  Leslie  and  was  shown  in. 

Being  left  alone  for  a  short  time  he  glanced 
around  as  if  in  hope  of  seeing  an  opportunity  to 
carry  out  his  design. 

A  desk  caught  his  eye — if  he  only  had  the  op- 
portunity to  look  through  it  he  felt  sure  he  could 
find  what  he  wanted,  for  it  was  undoubtedly 
the  property  of  Lillian  Leslie. 

There  were  several  books  on  the  library  table. 
These  he  examined  hastily. 

He  hoped  to  find  one  that  Lillian  might  have 


158  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

written  her  name  in,  for  he  believed  that  it 
would  be  easy  to  compare  the  writing  and  pro- 
nounce sentence  from  that. 

_n  this,  however,  he  was  disappointed. 

Joe's  name  was  in  several,  the  books  being 
inscribed,  with  love,  to  his  wife.  This  only 
proved  his  great  love. 

Eric  was  ready  to  swear  by  it  now,  and  did 
not  mean  to  let  the  case  drop  until  he  had  sifted 
it  thoroughly — such  honest  affection  as  Joe's 
should  never  be  made  sport  of  in  a  friend  of  his, 
even  by  the  prettiest  witch  that  ever  trod  the 
earth  —at  least  not  with  his  approval. 

The  rustle  of  female  attire  drew  his  atten- 
tion, and,  turning,  he  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  the  lady  of  the  house. 

He  had  not  sent  up  his  name  and  she  ap- 
peared quite  surprised  at  seeing  who  it  was. 

"You,  Mr.   Darrell?" 

"At  your  service,  Mrs.    Leslie." 

"What  do  you  wish  this  morning,  sir?" 

There  was  something  of  coldness  in  her  tones. 

He  could  not  tell  whence  it  sprung,  as  there 
were  several  things  that  might  cause  it. 

Perhaps  she  felt  humiliated  in  his  presence 
because  she  had  let  him  see  her  weakness, 
jealousy  of  her  husband's  affection. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  159 

Then,  again,  if  she  were  guilty  she  might  fear 
him  because  he  was  a  detective  and  Joe's  friend. 

He  suspended  judgment  and  resolved  to  study 
this  fair  creature  more  closely  than  he  had  as 
yet  had  a  chance  to  do. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ANOTHER  LINK  IN  THE  CHAIN 

All  these  things  had  flashed  through  Darrell's 
mind  with  a  rapidity  that  lightning  alone  could 
equal,  for  there  is  nothing  more  rapid  than 
thought. 

He  maintained  his  suave  manner. 

"I  have  come  this  morning,  Mrs.  Leslie,  for 
several  things.  In  the  first  place  I  wish  to  con- 
gratulate you  on  the  fact  that  Joe's  terrible  secret, 
as  I  made  it  out,  was  after  all  so  simple  a  thing. 
Your  wifely  trust  and  devotion  had  their  reward 
and  I  can  appreciate  the  feeling  of  satisfaction 
you  now  possess  because  of  your  trust  which  I 
could  not  wholly  beat  down,  in  spite  of  the 
proofs  I  brought,  and  which  must  have  appeared 
'strong  as  holy  writ'." 

This  was  artful  of  Eric — he  thought  to  destroy 
the  barrier  by  a  little  flattery,  knowing  all  the 
while  that  Lillian  had  really  been  jealous. 

It  told  too. 

160 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  161 

The  fair  lady  smiled  upon  him  once  more. 

"I  am  happy  because  our  bugaboo  turned  out 
to  be  only  a  pipe,  and  Joe  has  gone  off  this 
morning  with  a  cigar — he  shall  smoke  when  he 
pleases  after  this." 

"And  you?" 

"I  find  that  the  odor  from  a  good  cigar  is  rath- 
er attractive.  At  any  rate,  Joe  has  done  so  much 
for  me  that  I  can  afford  to  give  in  to  one  little 
vice  of  his.  To  think  of  the  poor  dear  fellow 
hiding  himself  away  like  that.  It  makes  me 
almost  cry  to  think  how  miserably  cruel  I  have 
been  to  him.  But  I  mean  to  make  it  up  to  Joe 
in  the  future,  Mr.  Darrell." 

Eric  swallowed  a  lump  that  seemed  to  be 
sticking  in  his  throat. 

This,  the  woman  whom  he  suspected  of  being 
false  to  her  husband — he  did  not  know  how  it 
was,  but  whenever  he  came  into  her  presence 
he  seemed  to  be  in  some  way  charmed. 

She  was  a  siren. 

The  same  power,  exercised  by  the  nymphs  of 
the  sea  in  olden  days,  causing  the  sailors  to 
jump  over  to  their  death,  is  given  to  certain  of 
the  gentler  sex  to-day. 

Adam  sunk  all   his   manhood  and   forgot   his 


162  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

duty  to  his  Maker  when  tempted  by  Eve,  and 
from  that  day  to  this  few  men  there  are  strong 
enough  to  do  the  right  when  a  beautiful  woman 
smiles  upon  them  and  teaches  them  the  lesson 
of  love. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  influ- 
ence Lillian  had  upon  nearly  all  who  came  in 
contact  with  her — her  manner  was  soothing  and 
pleasant,  so  that  general  admiration  followed 
her  acquaintance. 

Darrell  was  a  man  of  strong  purposes  and 
he  put  down  with  a  firm  hand  any  feeling  that 
interfered  with  his  stern  sense  of  duty. 

In  a  business  way  he  was  here  to  see  whether 
Lillian  was  what  she  appeared  to  be,  or  decep- 
tive by  nature. 

Hence  he  was  not  to  be  charmM  from  his 
purpose  in  any  way. 

The  human  feeling  of  admiration  must  give 
way  to  the  professional  energy. 

"You  spoke  of  several  reasons  for  calling  to 
see  me,  Mr.  Darrell — will  you  kindly  state  what 
the  others  are?"  she  asked. 

"With  pleasure,  and  I  trust  you  will  not  feel 
offended,  my  dear  Mrs.  Leslie.  It  is  a  custom 
on  my  part  in  a  case  like  this,  to  take  from  the 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  163 

party  with  whom  I  have  been  engaged,  a  littte 
note,  stating  that  they  have  been  well  satisfied 
with  my  services.  I  hope  you  may  not  think 
it  out  of  the  way  and  give  me  this." 

She  appeared  troubled. 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  ought  to — such  an 
affair  is  essentially  private." 

"I  only  desire  the  paper  for  my  own  satis- 
faction, and  not  to  show.  You  can  merely  state 
that  you  are  entirely  satisfied  with  the  services 
of  Eric  Darrell,  and  if  you  prefer,  simply  sign 
your  initials." 

Crafty  man  —the  initial  was  what  he  wanted 
above  all  else. 

Her  face  brightened. 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  would  object  to  that, 
Mr.  Darrell,  since  rny  identity  is  concealed. 
Do  you  want  it  now?" 

"If  you  please,"  humbly,  but  secretly  exult- 
ing over  his  success. 

She  went  to  the  desk,  opened  it  and  sat 
down — after  a  minute's  thought  she  wrote 
something  upon  a  sheet  of  paper. 

"Will  that  do,  Mr.  Darrell?"  handing  it  to 
him. 

He  glanced    at  it  and  read: 


164  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"This  is  to  certify  that  Mr.  Eric  Darrell  has 
accomplished  the  work  for  which  I  have  em- 
ployed him,  in  a  thoroughly  satisfactory  man- 
ner, and  that  I  am  well  satisfied  with  his  serv- 
ices. L.  L. 

"New  York,  October  7,  188— " 

Darrell  smiled. 

"A  thousand  thanks,  madam." 

"It  answers  your  purpose?"  quietly. 

"Yes,  yes." 

Although  he  smiled  Eric  Darrell  felt  as 
though  he  could  have  wept  just  then. 

The  one  glance  he  had  taken  had  revealed  the 
fact  that  the  capital  L  made  by  Mrs.  Leslie 
was  very  similar  to  the  one  which  he  had  seen 
signed  to  the  note  Paul  Prescott  had  let  fall. 

It  was  a  shock  to  the  detective,  even  though 
he  had  in  a  measure  expected  it. 

That  point  gained  he  put  the  matter  aside  for 
the  present  and  continued  to  appear  pleasant, 
though  it  was  only  with  an  effort  he  could  do  so. 

For  a  little  he  chatted  with  the  lady,  and 
endeavored  to  study  her. 

Darrell  thought  that  if  his  suspicions  were 
proven  true,  Lillian  Leslie  must  be  the  perfec- 
tion of  an  actress — he  had  never  seen  two  such 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  165 

extremes  meet  in  an  individual — she  was  the 
incarnation  of  good  and  evil. 

"By  the  way,  are  you  acquainted  with  a  Mrs. 
Collingwood  of  your  street  here?"  he  asked 
after  a  while,  in  a  careless  tone. 

"Yes,  I  know  her." 

She  looked  surprised,  as  though  wondering 
where  he  could  have  met  her. 

"Last  night  I  made  her  acquaintance.  She  is 
accounted  a  rather  handsome  woman,  I  believe." 

This  was  put  out  as  a  sort  of  feeler,  for  he 
had  not  even  seen  her  face. 

Lillian  answered  in  a  manner  that  declared 
what  little  interest  she  had  in  the  lady: 

"I  believe  so,  but  we  were  never  friends,  and 
I  do  not  know  much  about  the  lady." 

That  ended  it. 

Darrell  soon  took  his  leave,  having  gained  the 
point  for  which  he  had  come. 

When  he  entered  a  car  on  the  elevated  road 
he  found  a  corner  to  himself,  and  then,  unable 
to  wait  longer,  proceeded  to  compare  the  two 
notes. 

Just  as  he  thought,  the  writing  was  of  the 
same  order,  and  there  was  much  resemblance 
in  the  capital  letters. 


1 66  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Still,  Eric  had  seen  enough  to  know  that  only 
an  expert  could  decide  this  question  beyond  all 
cavil. 

Before  now  he  had  seen  the  chirography  of 
two  persons  resemble  each  other,  and  this  was 
not  to  be  accepted  as  conclusive  evidence. 

At  the  same  time  it  was  a  point  that  would 
bear  upon  the  final  result. 

He  kept  it  in  mind. 

Other  threads  must  now  be  taken  up  in  turn, 
until  the  main  current  was  reached  which  would 
sweep  him  on  to  the  sea. 

He  put  away  .  the  document  iust  received 
from  Mrs.  Leslie. 

While  still  looking  at  the  other,  some  one 
sat  down  beside  him. 

Darrell's  thoughts  were  fixed  upon  the  sub- 
ject which  occupied  his  attention,  and  he  did  not 
even  know  there  was  some  one  in  the  next  seat 
until  a  hand  clutched  his  arm. 

"Where  did  you  get  that  paper?"  said  a  hoarse 
voice  close  by  his  ear. 

Turning  his  head  at  this  he  was  surprised  to 
see  Paul  Prescott  beside  him. 

Fortune  plays  some  queer  tricks  at  times,  and 
this  was  one  of  them. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  167 

What  an  odd  chance  that  this  man,  of  all  in 
the  great  city,  should  sit  down  in  the  same  car, 
at  the  very  moment  Darrell  had  that  fatal  pa- 
per in  his  hand. 

The  circumstances  were  indeed  so  singular 
that  Eric  could  not  but  start;  but  his  excellent 
control  over  his  nerves  stood  him  in  good 
stead  again. 

He  looked  in  the  artist's  face — it  was  flushed 
and  eager  and  angry — evidently  he  had  not 
missed  the  letter  up  to  now. 

"My  dear  sir,  does  it  belong  to  you?"  asked 
the  detective,  quietly. 

"It  does,  sir." 

"Then  take  your  property." 

"Very  good,  sir;  but  I  have  a  right  to  ask, 
yes,  demand  of  you,  to  explain  under  what  pe- 
culiar circumstances  this  document  chanced  to 
come  into  your  possession." 

"I  do  not  question  your  right  to  ask  that, 
and  I  shall  readily  tell  where  and  when  I  picked 
the  letter  up." 

So  he  gave  the  time  and  place  to  a  dot,  but 
did  not  say  anything  about  having  seen  it  drop 
from  the  pocket  of  the  owner.  Prescott  re- 
membered that  this  was  when  and  where  he  had 


1 68  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

received  the  message,  and   he  had  no  doubt   of 
the  truth  of  the  story. 

At  the  same  time  he  looked  at  the  man  by 
his  side  with  a  frown. 

"You  read  this?"  he  asked, 

"Naturally  so — you  could  not  blame  me." 

"And  had  your  curiosity  aroused?" 

"Well,  yes,  but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  Let  us  forget  the  circumstance." 

"Wilingly,  since  it  concerns  the  private  affairs 
of  a  very  dear  friend." 

No  more  was  said. 

Eric  read  his  paper  and  the  artist  seemed  oc- 
cupied with  his,  but  every  now  and  then  he 
turned  his  eyes  toward  the  detective  as  though 
his  curiosity  was  aroused. 

When  the  artist  arose  at  Fourteenth  Street, 
to  leave  the  car,  Eric  handed  him  a  card  he 
had,  prepared  for  such  occasions. 

It  gave  his  name  and  the  address  of  his  apart- 
ments— nothing  more. 

"If  you  should  ever  desire  to  see  me,  sir,  you 
will  find  me  there  by  letter  or  person,"  he  said 
quietly. 

At  this  Prescott  smiled  broadly. 

"I  hope  you  don't  think  I  dream   of  sending 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  169 

you  a  challenge  for  finding   my  letter,"  he  said. 

"Well,  you  looked  as  black  as  a  thunder 
cloud,  and  I  didn't  know  but  what  you  might 
be  meditating  something  of  the  sort." 

"It  was  rude  in  me  to  act  that  way,  and  I 
beg  your  pardon  for  it." 

Frankly  said. 

The  detective  liked  him  better  for  it,  and 
there  was  something  about  the  other's  face 
quite  attractive  after  all. 

Somehow  Eric  did  not  seem  to  hate  and 
despise  him  as  he  had  done  before. 

When  the  artist  had  gone  he  fell  into  a  fit  of 
musing  again. 

Various  theories  were  built  up,  only  to  be  dis- 
carded again  as  unequal  to  the  occasion. 

He  remembered  that  the  letter  had  been  given 
to  Prescott  by  a  woman,  who  was  evidently  in 
the  pay  of  the  party  signed  L. 

Whom  could  Lillian  send? 

He  did  not  know  the  internal  arrangements 
of  the  lovely  little  house  up  town,  and  this  was 
what  was  now  on  his  mind. 

The  office  of  Joe  Leslie  was  his  destination, 
and  he  made  his  way  thither  after  leaving  the 
elevated  road. 


170  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Leslie  was  in  John  Street,  and  carried  on  a 
business  in  precious  stones,  of  which  he  was 
one  of  the  best  judges  in  the  city. 

He  was  a  man  of  considerable  wealth,  but 
being  of  an  unostentatious  nature  he  did  not 
put  on  much  style,  preferring  to  live  quietly  and 
well. 

When  Eric  Darrell  ascended  the  stairs  of  the 
large  building  in  which  his  friend  had  his  offices, 
he  was  forcibly  reminded  of  times  gone  by  when 
Joe  was  a  bachelor,  and  the  two  had  been  warm 
friends,  passing  through  numerous  scenes  of 
pleasure  in  company. 


CHAPTER  XV 

COMPARING  NOTES 

Joe  was  in. 

When  the  detective  sent  his  card  by  the 
same  clerk  whom  he  had  helped  Joe  rescue  from 
the  clutches  of  the  gamblers,  he  was  shown  to 
the  private  office. 

Here  he  found  his  friend  seated  at  his  desk, 
and  busily  engaged  with  a  pile  of  letters  that 
had  come  in  the  morning  mail. 

Joe  greeted  him  cordially  and  begged  him  to 
wait  a  few  minutes,  when  he  would  be  through 
with  his  task. 

This  suited  the  detective  exactly,  since  it  gave 
him  a  chance  to  watch  the  other. 

He  was  able  to  read  a  face  pretty  thoroughly 
and  he  saw  very  quickly  that  Joe  was  still  greatly 
troubled  in  his  mind. 

He  had  gotten  rid  of  one  burden,  but  another 
had  come  in  its  stead. 

What  could  it  mean? 
171 


172  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

There  was  little  need  for  Eric  to  ask  that. 

He  knew,  beyond  all  doubt,  that  the  old  sus- 
picions had  arisen  again  in  Joe's  mind,  perhaps 
strengthened  by  some  circumstance. 

Finally  Joe  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
looked  at  his  visitor. 

"Eric,  for  a  short  time  last  night  I  was  really 
and  truly  happy — it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
clouds  had  all  rolled  by.  Then,  by  a  strange 
circumstance,  they  were  brought  forward  again 
and  now  I  am  worse  off  than  ever." 

"That  is  too  bad — I  am  sorry  for  it." 

"Before,  it  was  my  foolish  habit  that  gave 
me  sorrow — now  it  is  a  dreadful  thought  that  I 
endeavor  to  banish  from  my  mind,  but  which 
rises  up  again  and  again  in  all  its  hideous  de- 
formity until  I  almost  feel  as  though  I  am  mad. 

"Still  I  keep  my  thoughts  clear,  for  I  know 
that  this  awful  question  must  be  grappled  with, 
and  fought  to  the  death. 

"My  whole  future  is  concerned  in  it,  and  I 
mean  to  lay  the  ghost  forever,  or  else  know 
the  very  worst." 

"Spoken  like  a  true  man,  Joe.  Shake  hands 
on  that  as  a  bargain.  I  am,  in  this  matter, 
hoping  to  prove  your  wife's  innocence,  but  I 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  173 

shall  take  up  any  evidence  that  comes  along, 
and  apply  it  where  it  belongs." 

"I  want  you  to,  old  fellow,  no  matter  what 
the  pain  it  brings." 

"To  begin  with,  you  know  all  my  hopes  are 
to  the  end  that  Lillian  may  prove  to  be  as  in- 
nocent as  a  babe." 

"Heaven  grant  it,"  Joe  groaned. 

His  tone  betokened  despair. 

The  detective  judged  from  this  that  his  friend 
must  have  made  some  discovery  since  last  they 
met. 

"At  the  same  time,  Joe,  you  know  as  it  looks 
at  present,  things  are  decidedly  against  your 
wife." 

"I  try  to  deceive  myself,  Eric,  into  the  belief 
that  it  is  not  so,  but  I  cannot,  I  cannot.  She 
shall  have  a  fair  trial — I  will  give  her  the  ad- 
vantage of  every  doubt,  and  then — " 

He  could  not  finish  the  sentence. 

Poor  fellow!  how  Eric  pitied  him,  and  in 
that  moment,  believing  Lillian  guilty,  cursed 
the  hour  she  ever  crossed  Joe's  path,  to  blight 
a  life  devoted  to  her. 

Never  mind — the  end  was  not  yet. 

"Tell  me  what  you  have    discovered,  Eric," 


174  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

said  Leslie,  throwing  off  the  terrible  feeling  that 
almost  overcame  him. 

"After  you,  my  boy." 

"How  do  you  know  I  have  anything  to  tell?" 
in  a  surprised  tone. 

"Your  looks  give  it  away.     Proceed." 

So,  being  encouraged  to  speak,  Joe  gave  a 
brief  account  of  the  charming  scene  that  had 
taken  place  in  his  home  on  the  preceding  night. 

Eric  was  quite  interested,  and  his  reflections 
upon  the  little  woman  were  flattering  to  her. 

Then  came  the  climax. 

The  note  with  the  charred  edge  was  produced, 
and  submitted  to  examination. 

Eric  looked  upon  it  as  furnishing  quite  a  link 
in  the  chain  of  evidence — he  believed  the  secret 
referred  to  must  indeed  mean  that  which  they 
were  looking  up. 

When  Joe  heard  the  opinion  of  his  friend, 
he  was  not  much  encouraged — indeed,  his  spir- 
its were  reduced  to  a  lower  ebb;  but  he  shut  his 
teeth  and  said  nothing. 

"Now  I  want  your  opinion,  Joe,  as  a  man  of 
some  legal  acumen.  It  is  a  little  question  I 
desire  to  have  settled,"  he  said. 

With  that  he  took  out  the  document  he  had 
received  from  Lillian. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"You  recognize  the  handwriting?" 

"I  do — it  is  my  wife's,"  with  a  shiver. 

"I  had  another  paper,  but  gave  it  up  to  the 
owner;  but,  as  it  fortunately  turned  out,  ere 
doing  so  I  traced  the  signature  with-  a  piece  of 
tracing  paper — see,  here  it  is." 

He  put  the  two  together. 

"Bend  over,  Joe." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  decide?"  nervously, 
as  might  a  man  who  feared  lest  his  words  mi^hL 
convict  one  he  loved. 

"Examine  these  signatures," 

"I  am  doing  so." 

"If  asked  your  opinion  frankly  as  an  outsider, 
would  you  incline  to  the  belief  that  one  hand 
had  made  both  of  these?" 

"You  insist  on  a  reply?" 

"I  think  you  had  better  give  it." 

"Then,  according  to  my  humble  opinion,  those 
letters  are  alike,  and  the  chances  are  decidedly 
in  favor  of  the  same  party  having  made  both." 

"My  opinion  exactly — I  would  not  swear  to  it 
but  I  put  the  chances  in  that  way." 

Then  he  turned  the  paper  over  to  Joe. 

"What  of  this?"  asked  that  worthy. 

"There  is  nothing  out  of  the  way  in  it.  I  only 


176  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

had  your  wife  write   it  out  and  sign  her  initials 
in  order  to  compare  it  with  the  other  document." 

"Tell  me  about  the  other." 

"I  will  reproduce  it,  word  for  word." 

Drawing  some  paper  to  him  he  wrote  rapidly 
for  a  few  minutes. 

Then  he  placed  the  duplicate  of  Frescott's 
letter  in  front  of  Joe. 

"This  looks  like  a  deep  conspiracy,  Eric — you 
say  this  was  signed  that  way?" 

"Yes." 

"Was  it — in — her  handwriting?" 

"There  were  enough  points  of  resemblance  to 
make  it  striking." 

"Heavens!"  and  he  beat  his  fist  against  nis 
forehead  in  despair — then  recovered  his  calm- 
ness after  an  effort. 

"You  say  you  have  lost  this  document?" 

"I  had  compared  them  in  the  elevated  com- 
ing down  here,  and  was  still  looking  at  that  one 
when  a  hand  was  laid  on  my  arm  and  a  man 
asked  me  what  I  was  doing  with  his  property. 
I  saw  he  was  the  owner  and  gave  it  over — 
we  had  a  few  words  and  separated." 

"Was  that  man  known  to  me?" 

"By  sight,  yes." 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  177 

Joe  shuddered  visibly,  as  though  he  under- 
stood the  suggestive  words  of  the  other. 

"Then  it  was  he?" 

"Paul  Prescott,  the  artist." 

"Curses  on  him  for  a  meddler!  Lillian  has  a 
weakness  for  art,  and  I  have  often  jokingly 
told  her  she  should  have  married  a  painter." 

"That  explains  his  power  in  a  measure — he 
has  fed  her  on  art  and  won  her  regard  by  posing 
as  a  hero." 

Joe  struck  the  duplicate  paper  fiercely. 

"Eric,  you  may  think  me  crazy  to  doubt  it,  but 
unless  Lillian  declares  in  my  presence  that  this 
is  the  product  of  her  pen  I  will  never  believe  it." 

"Joe,  my  friend,  I  honor  you  for  such  a  feel- 
ing, and  I  hope  as  I  never  hoped  before  in  my 
life  that  this  thing  will  prove  a  false  alarm.  All 
the  same  I  shall  do  my  duty  by  you  every  time, 
as  a  true  friend." 

"A  thousand  thanks.  I  feel  fifty  years  old  to- 
day instead  of  thirty-six — it  is  my  birthday, 
you  know,  Eric,"  with  a  sad  smile. 

"I  wish  you  many  happy  returns,  my  dear 
fellow — just  three  years  younger  than  I  am.  I 
wish  I  had  a  gift  to  give  you." 

"The  best  gift  this  world  could  give  me  would 


178  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

be  the  proof  that  my  wife  is  the  true  and  faith- 
ful wife  I  have  always  believed  her.  Great  heav- 
ens! Eric,  when  I  think  of  it  all,  a  spasm  comes 
over  me —  my  ringers  twitch  as  though  they 
would  love  to  encircle  the  throat  of  that  arch- 
devil  and  choke  his  life  out." 

Eric  was  surprised. 

He  had  not  believed  this  of  Joe,  looking  upon 
the  other  as  a  sort  of  good-natured  giant  whom 
any  one  could  impose  upon.  Now  he  saw  him 
angry  he  made  up  his  mind  that  if  ever  Paul 
Prescott  and  Joe  came  in  contact  it  would  go 
hard  with  the  artist. 

"Well,  I  declare,  you  will  make  a  modern 
Othello  yet,  Joe." 

"No,  no,"  with  a  shudder,  "I  might  kill  him, 
but  I  would  never  raise  a  finger  against  her  if 
she  deceived  me  time  and  again.  I  couldn't;  I 
must  love  her  always." 

Eric  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Every  man  to  his  taste.  Your  character  is 
one  in  a  thousand,  Joe.  As  for  me  I  confess  I 
ha^e  more  of  the  tiger  about  me,  and  if  a  man 
or  woman  foully  wrongs  me  I  look  forward  with 
pleasure  to  revenge." 

"Don't  let  us  talk  about  it — the  worst  T  would 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

do  to  her  would  be  to  seek  a  separation — but 
for  him,"  and  his  face  grew  grandly  dark  and 
gloomy,  but  he  did  not  finish. 

"I  wish  to  ask  you  a  few  questions  about 
your  home,  Joe." 

"Do  so." 

"In  the  first  place  you  have  a  girl." 

"Yes,  two  of  them." 

"What  positions  do  they  occupy?" 

"One  is  in  the  kitchen — the  other  a  sort  of  up- 
stairs girl,  to  take  care  of  the  rooms,  answer  the 
door,  and  wait  upon  the  table." 

"Describe  the  cook." 

Joe  laughed. 

"She  is  as  fat  as  she  is  long,  almost,  and  as 
good-natured  as  she  is  fat." 

Eric  made  a  gesture. 

"That  point  is  settled.     Now  the  other." 

"Nanny  is  a  woman  too,  but  much  smaller, 
and  ladylike  in  her  ways.  She  came  here 
from  Chicago  with  us." 

"Ah!  a  favorite  of  your  wife's?" 

"Yes.  Nanny  was  in  her  mother's  employ 
as  a  girl.  She  is  faithful  to  us." 

"Ahem!  Just  the  person,  in  fact,  to  be  en- 
trusted with  a  message  of  a  secret  nature,  that 
must  be  handed  to  a  certain  party?" 


180  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

A.t  this  Joe  turned  red  and  white   by  turns. 

"I  presume  so,"  he  admitted,  uneasily. 

"Is  Nanny  about  my  height,  rather  slim,  and 
juick  in  her  actions?" 

"Yes."  .^ 

"Dresses  in  black?" 

"My  soul!  man,  you  seem  to  drive  the  nails 
into  my  coffin  with  each  question." 

"Answer,  Joe." 

"She  does  dress  in  black — most  maids  do  in 
New  York  now." 

"Wear  a  white  apron?" 

"No,"  with  a  gleam  of  hope. 

"Neither  did  this  girl.  I  knew  she  was  a 
maid  by  the  courtesy  she  made  when  handing 
Prescott  the  letter,  and  also  from  the  little  white 
cap  she  wore." 

Poor  Joe's  last  chance  seemed  gone — the 
other  had  knocked  away  the  pins  upon  which 
his  house  was  built. 

"That  was  probably  Nanny,  but  I  can  not 
and  will  not  believe  Lillian  wrote  that  note. 
Some  other  party  had  hired  Nanny  to  give  it  to 
that  man." 

Darrell  knew  Joe  was  hugging  a  phantom  to 
his  heart,  but  he  could  not  take  pleasure  in  ar- 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  181 

guing  with  the  deceived  husband — besides,  Joe's 
actions  proved  that  he  believed  more  than  he 
would  admit  either  to  himself  or  his  confidential 
adviser,  and  if  the  blow  did  come  it  would  not 
be  such  a  cv-rrible  shock  as  if  he  had  received  no 
warning. 

The  end  was  not  far  away. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    LOCKED  SARATOGA 

The  detective  was  not  yet  through. 

He  wished  to  find  out  a  few  other  things 
connected  with  the  case,  through  information 
which  Joe  alone  could  give. 

When  the  latter  had  told  his  story  concern- 
ing what  had  happened  at  his  house  on  the  pre- 
ceding night,  he  had  touched  lightly  on  the 
incident  of  the  closet. 

The  keen  detective  had  however  made  a  men- 
tal note  of  the  circumstance,  and  he  was  bound 
to  know  more  of  the  matter. 

"What  sort  of  a  closet  is  it?"   he  asked. 

"Quite  a  roomy  affair." 

"You  keep  what  there?" 

"A  number  of  odds  and  ends,  and  I  believe  a 
large  Saratoga  trunk." 

"Ah!  your  wife's?" 

"She  brought  it  from  Chicago.     On  our  little 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  183 

trips  to  Boston  and  Washington  we  used  my 
leather  one." 

"Then  this  trunk  has  been  there  all  the  while?" 

"Yes." 

"Think  now — have  you  ever  known  Lillian  to 
enter  that  closet  for  anything  since  she  came  to 
you?" 

Joe  turned  white. 

"She  might  have  done  so  dozens  of  times." 

"But  have  you  known  her  to?" 

"I  have  not." 

"Is  there  anything  kept  there  she  would  want?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of." 

"Under  the  circumstances  does  it  not  strike 
you  as  singular  that  she  should  not  only  enter 
the  closet  but  lock  it  and  take  the  key  upstairs  ?" 

"Eric,  I  have  thought  so  myself,"  sadly. 

"Now,  Joe,  you  are  withholding  something 
from  me  that  has  a  bearing  on  this  matter." 

"How  do  you  know  it?"  quickly. 

"Well,  perhaps  a  little  bird  told  me,  or  else 
I  read  the  secret  in  your  face.  At  any  rate  you 
have  no  business  to  keep  it  from  me,  I  am  try- 
ing to  do  my  duty — heaven  knows  if  I  could  I 
would  have  your  wife  as  spotless  as  the  noon- 
day sky,  and  if  she  proves  otherwise  I  shall  lose 


184  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

faith  in  all  womankind  forever;  but  I  must  be 
able  to  weigh  every  particle  of  evidence  for  and 
against  her." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Eric,  but  I  felt  so  badly 
over  the  circumstance  that  I  hardly  had  the 
heart  to  relate  it  to  you." 

"Then  it  is  against  her?" 

"I  am  afraid  so." 

"The  sky  grows  very  black — poor  Joe — poor 
Lillian — my  heart  is  in  sympathy  with  you." 

Joe  had  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and 
seemed  quite  overcome. 

The  detective  waited. 

When  his  friend  had  in  a  measure  recovered 
from  the  shock,  he  spoke. 

"Now  tell  me  the  circumstances." 

Joe's  voice  was  a  little  unsteady,  but  it  gained 
strength  as  he  proceeded: 

"When  I  came  down  this  morning  it  was  late 
for  me,  but  I  had  not  slept  well,  and  felt  a 
raging  headache. 

"Lillian  was  in  the  library,  and  left  me  to  go 
down  to  see  if  she  could  not  have  a  cup  of  strong 
tea  made,  which  always  acts  as  a  sedative  with 
me  when  I  have  a  headache. 

"My  thoughts  had  never  gone  from  that  closet 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  185 

and  I  had  already  seen  that  the  key  was  in  the 
door  for  Lillian  had  brought  it  down. 

"Hardly  had  she  left  the  room  than  I  was 
over  there  and  had  the  door  open. 

"I  examined  the  interior  but  found  it  all  as 
I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  seeing  it. 

"This  surprised  me.  Could  I  after  all  have 
done  her  an  injustice  with  my  suspicions? 

"I  was  beginning  to  think  so,  when  I  suddenly 
noticed  a  little  thing. 

"The  key  of  her  Saratoga  trunk  was  missing. 

"I  remembered  seeing  it  in  the  trunk  a  few 
weeks  before. 

"Why  should  Lillian  take  it? 

"Instinctively  I  tried  the  lid— it  was  fast — 
the  trunk  was  locked. 

"I  left  the  closet,  and  was  sitting  in  the  libra- 
ry when  the  breakfast  bell  rang,  and  Lillian 
came  in  to  go  down  with  me. 

"She  was  full  of  spirits,  while  I  felt  as  though 
I  were  about  to  attend  my  own  funeral. 

"During  the  progress  of  the  meal  I  spoke 
about  there  being  a  chance  of  our  soon  going  out 
to  Chicago  to  pay  a  visit,  and  she  seemed  to 
be  very  quiet  over  it,  unusually  so,  I  believed. 

•"By  the  way,  I  miss  the  key  of  your  trunk — 


186  JOB  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

will  you  let  me  see  if  the  interior  is  in  good  con- 
dition?' I  said  as  steadily  as  I  could,  although 
I  felt  my  face  turn  red. 

"She  looked  at  me  as  though  surprised. 

"' To-morrow  you  can  do  so,  Joe — to-day  you 
are  in  poor  condition  for  anything.  Take  your 
mind  off  everything  that  excites  it.  I  wish  you 
would  stay  at  home  to-day  and  nurse  your 
headache. ' 

"I  professed  to  have  business  of  unusual  im- 
portance down  town,  and  shortly  after  left  the 
house  for  my  office. 

"Now,  Eric,  give  me  your  honest  opinion — 
my  mind  is  hardly  in  a  fit  condition  to  see  and 
judge  for  myself." 

The  detective  had  listened  intently. 

He  could  grasp  the  threads  and  draw  them 
into  one  compact  cord. 

The  issue  was  before  him. 

"Joe,  it  is  beyond  all  question  that  her  secret 
lies  in  that  trunk — if  we  knew  what  it  contains, 
nothing  more  would  be  needed." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  rather  wearily. 

"From  the  tenor  of  the  letter  Prescott  re- 
ceived I  am  inclined  to  believe  some  one  is  about 
to  run  away  with  him,  or  he  with  her,  rather." 

Joe  groaned  dismally. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  187 

"If  in  that  trunk  I  should  find  some  of  her 
Jresses  and  jewelry — well,  I  should  be  strongly 
iiiclined  to  believe  it  meant  flight." 

"No,  no,"  hoarsely,  clutching^  his  throbbing 
brow  with  both  hands,  "not  that.  Lillian  would 
never  be  guilty  of  that.  She  may  have  flirted 
with  the  man — women  are  weak,  I  know — but 
that  is  the  worst  I  will  believe  of  her — the  worst." 

Darrell  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Very  good,  Joe,  but  you  must  permit  me  to 
place  my  own  estimation  on  things.  My  eyes 
are  not  blinded  by  love — I  can  weigh  things 
calmly,  and  place  their  right  estimation  upon 
them." 

"Eric,  I  said  I  would  leave  it  all  with  you  and 
I  do,  but  until  it  is  proven  beyond  all  doubt, 
do  aot  ask  me  to  believe  in  her  guilt.  It  will 
kill  me  if  it  is  so." 

"Trust  in  me,  Joe,  old  fellow,  I  will  act  for 
you  as  though  you  were  my  brother." 

"And — whatever  comes,  Eric — be  gentle  with 
Lillian — let  me  be  the  one  to — oh!  my  God!  I 
cannot  believe  it,  and  yet  it  seems  as  though  a 
burning  iron  were  branding  it  on  my  brain." 

The  detective  was  done  for  the  present. 

From  Joe's  offices  he  went  to  his  own. 


i88  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Here  he  could  sit  down  and  review  the  situ- 
ation in  regular  order. 

Darrell  generally  made  notes  of  his  subject, 
so  that  he  might  ever  keep  the  circumstances 
before  his  mind. 

He  now  jotted  down  a  few  more  headings, 
and  then  surveyed  the  case  as  seen  through  these 
spectacles  which  he  had  drawn  on. 

Looking  over  his  shoulder  we  can  also  get  a 
resume  of  the  case  by  reading  what  he  filled  up 
a  page  in  his  note  book  with. 

They  were  arranged  under  heads  in  numerical 
order,  beginning  at  the  start : 

I — Paul  Prescott,  an  artist,  makes  daily  visits 
to  Joe's  house  when  Joe  is  down  town. 

2 — Lillian  Leslie  has  a  secret  from  her  hus- 
band. 

3 — The  paper  dropped  by  Prescott  is  in  her 
writing,  and  seems  to  promise  an  elopement. 
It  is  also  signed  L,  her  initial. 

4 — The  girl  who  gave  Prescott  the  letter  cor- 
responds with  Lillian's  faithful  maid,  who  has 
been  in  the  family  for  many  years. 

5 — The  fact  of  her  having  the  closet  key  up- 
stairs is  significant  in  itself. 

6 — Her  truak  is  locked  and  the  key  gone — 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  189 

she  says  she  will  produce  it  when  Joe  has  leisure 
to  examine  the  trunk — there  is  no  hurry — the 
morrow  will  do — evidently  something-is  to  occur 
between  now  and  to-morrew. 

This  was  the  indictment. 

Against  it,  on  the  opposite  page,  he  had  writ- 
ten the  defense — it  came  under  one  head: 

"i—  Lillian  is  my  ideal  of  womanly  perfection 
— if  she  prove  guilty  my  faith  is  gone  forever. 
I  have  never  yet  been  able  to  believe  her  guilty 
while  in  her  presence — it  is  only  when  away 
that  these  terrible  facts  make  me  fear  it  is  so." 

A  peculiar  case  this.  If  Lillian  could  plead 
her  own  cause,  she  would  undoubtedly  win  it. 

For  a  long  time  Eric  Darrell  sat  and  looked 
at  his  notes. 

They  covered  about  all  of  the  case. 

He  could  not  but  see  how  overwhelming  the 
evidence  was  against  Lillian  and  how  meager 
her  defense. 

Still  he  kept  hoping  for  the  best,  trusting  that 
something  would  turn  up  to  send  the  balance 
over  to  the  other  side  Had  it  been  any  one 
other  than  Lillian,  the  detective  must  have  de- 
clared that  there  could  be  no  hope — the  case 


190  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

would  be  virtually  closed.  With  such  a  client, 
however,  he  had  hope  to  the  end,  because  all 
his  sympathies  were  enlisted  in  behalf  of  Joe  and 
his  wife. 

He  was  not  the  man  to  waste  time  in  useless 
speculation,  and  when  he  had  calmly  reviewed 
the  situation,  he  made  up  his  mind  what  ought 
to  be  done. 

Would  it  be  possible  to  save  Lillian  even 
though  she  were  guilty? 

He  could  not  face  her — his  first  thought  had 
been  to  see  her  and  speak  of  the  terrible  nature 
of  the  indictment  hanging  over  her  like  the  sword 
of  Damocles,  suspended  by  a  single  hair — per- 
haps she  was  influenced  by  some  strange  power 
the  artist  possessed — mesmerized,  made  a  slave 
by  some  peculiar  phase  in  a  powerful  organiza- 
tion—  Eric  had  known  of  such  things,  although 
he  did  not  pretend  to  understand  them. 

When  he  came  to  think  it  over,  however,  he 
concluded  that  he  could  not  muster  up  courage 
enough  to  say  these  things  to  her  face. 

He  was  certain  that,  strong-nerved  man  as 
he  was,  he  would  utterly  fail  when  he  sat  op- 
posite those  eyes,  and  felt  them  upon  him. 

Was  there  any  other  source  to  which  he 
might  apply? 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  191 

He  ran  over  the  field. 

What  of  Paul  Prescott? 

The  thought  seemed  absurd  at  first  but  pres- 
ently he  began  to  realize  that  there  was  a 
chance  back  of  it. 

The  man  was  a  character  and  might  not  be 
as  bad  as  appearances  indicated. 

Perhaps  moral  suasion  might  influence  him, 
and  in  case  that  failed  a  threat  would  possibly 
have  the  desired  effect. 

The  more  he  thought  over  the  matter  the 
better  he  looked  upon  the  idea. 

At  last  he  determined  to  try  it. 

There  could  be  no  harm  done. 

At  the  same  time  he  had  a  chance  to  accom- 
plish a  great  work. 

A  new  thought  had  entered  Eric's    head. 

Even  if  Lillian  was  guilty  he   might  through 
some  work,    skillfully  arranged,  so   manage    it 
that  the  disturbing  element  should  be  removed, 
and  their  lives  flow  on  smoothly  again. 

This  was  his  highest  hope. 

That  he  would  find  Lillian  innocent  had 
ceased  to  enter  into  his  calculations. 

He  only  hoped  for  a  half  way  victory.  It  was 
noon  when  he  went  out,  and  stopping  in  a  res- 


iga  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

taurant  he  had  dinner.      His  plan  was  arranged. 

If  he  could  effect  a  meeting  with  the  artist, 
the  worst  would  soon  be  known,  and  he  would 
also  discover  what  sort  of  man  Prescott  was. 

He  knew  where  the  latter  had  his  studio,  and 
presently  was  bound  for  Fourteenth  Street  to 
interview  the  artist.  What  would  come  of  that 
interview  no  one  could  tell,  but  Eric  hoped  for 
a  favorable  issue. 

At  any  rate  he  did  not  think  his  case  would 
be  destroyed  by  what  he  was  now  about  to  un- 
dertake. 

At  half  past  one  he  entered  the  building 
where  Paul  Prescott  had  his  studio. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  stood  at  the  door  and 
gave  a  loud  knock. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  ARTIST    IS   DEFIANT 

"Come  in!"  said  a  voice. 

Eric  opened  the  door. 

An  odor  of  tobacco  greeted  him. 

Prescott,  in  his  studio  dress,  was  before  a 
painting,  putting  some  touches  here  and  there. 

So  interested  was  he  that  he  did  not  turn  his 
head  when  the  door  closed. 

Darrell  looked  at  the  painting  and  was  charmed 
— it  was  a  glimpse  of  the  Delaware  Water  Gap, 
and  so  true  to  nature  that  one  could  almost  be- 
lieve he  was  on  the  spot. 

Finally  the  artist  stepped  back  a  pace. 

"There!  that  is  done.  I  beg  your  pardon — " 
and  he  wheeled  around. 

As  he  saw  who  his  visitor  was  he  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  surprise. 

"Ah!  you,  Mr.— Mr.— " 

"Darrell." 

193 


194  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"To  what  do  I  owe  the  pleasure  of  this  visit, 
Mr.  Darrell?" 

Evidently  he  was  inclined  to  be  a  little  sus- 
picious of  the  man  who  had  had  that  letter  in 
his  possession. 

At  the  same  time   his  curiosity  was  aroused. 

Eric  saw  this.  He  was  ready  to  take  advan- 
tage of  it. 

Coolly  seating  himself  he  said: 

"Mr.  Prescott,  I  have  called  to  see  you  in 
reference  to  that  paper  which  you  received  from 
my  hands  this  morning." 

"Ah!  indeed,"  with  a  frown. 

Not  at  all  dismayed  the  detective  went  on: 

"I  believe  you  claimed  it  as  your  property?" 

"I  did —have  you  any  reason  to  doubt  my 
word?" 

"Not  at  all,  sir.  If  it  was  your  property,  then 
the  letter  must  have  been  addressed  to  you." 

"It  was." 

"Mr.  Prescott,  you  are  looked  upon  in  society 
as  an  honorable  man — your  name  has  never  yet 
been  tarnished.  As  a  friend  I  beg  of  you  to 
pause  ere  you  cross  the  Rubicon." 

"What's  all  this  about?  It  seems  to  me  you 
are  interesting  yourself  in  a  business  that  does 
not  concern  you  in  the  least,"  coldly. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  195 

"That  is  where  you  are  mistaken,  sir — it  does 
interest  me  greatly." 

"In  what  way?" 

"I  know  the  lady  who  wrote  that  note." 

The  artist  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Well?" 

Eric  was  somewhat  surprised. 

He  had  expected  that  the  man  would  show 
signs  of  consternation. 

On  the  contrary  he  maintained  his  self-pos- 
session, and  even  smiled. 

"You  contemplate  a  step  that  is  bound  to 
bring  trouble," 

"It  is  not  my  fault,"  with  a  sneer;  "some peo- 
ple are  so  wrapped  up  in  themselves  that  they 
can  see  no  one  else.  This  lady — her  name  shall 
not  be  mentioned,  as  I  would  not  have  it  the 
subject  of  a  quarrel — prefers  my  company  to  that 
in  which  circumstances  have  thrown  her.  She 
is  restrained  of  her  liberty,  and  I  would  give  it 
to  her.  That  is  all.  Through  the  interference 
of  some  interloper,  such  as  yourself,  we  may  be 
prevented  from  carrying  our  immediate  plans 
into  execution,  but  the  postponement  can  only 
be  temporary.  We  must  triumph!" 

Eric  was  more  than  ever  amazed. 


196  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

This  man  did  not  appear  shamefaced — he  even 
gloried  in  his  foul  work. 

Surely  this  was  the  acme  of  villainy. 

How  was  he  to  meet  it? 

Could  he  cow  the  artist? 

Already  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  this 
was  impossible,  for  the  man  seemed  to  be  as 
daring  as  he  was  bad. 

What  then? 

There  was  nothing  left  but  to  let  the  game 
take  its  course. 

If  Joe  and  this  man  ever  came  into  personal 
contact  there  would  be  trouble,  for  the  artist 
looked  like  a  man  who  would  back  up  his  acts 
with  blows. 

"You  refuse  to  change  your  plans,  then?" 

"Most  decidedly." 

"Well,  you  may  rue  it  ere  long." 

"See  here,  what  makes  it  your  business — 
there  was  no  name  attached  to  this  note — how 
do  you  know  who  wrote  it — what  in  the  devil 
have  you  got  to  do  with  it,  anyhow,  and  what 
is  to  hinder  me  from  giving  you  a  sound  thrash- 
ing on  account  of  your  confounded  impudence 
in  the  affair?" 

His  manner  was  threatening. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  197 

Eric  did  not  wince. 

"Mr.  Prescott,  listen  to  me,  I  am  a  man  not 
acquainted  with  fear,  nor  do  I  descend  to  fisti- 
cuffs. You  see  I  am  armed — now  you  can  keep 
your  distance  and  talk  reason  or  else  take  the 
consequences." 

At  sight  of  the  revolver  the  artist  started. 

He  seemed  to  suspect  for  the  first  time  what 
manner  of  man  he  was  dealing  with. 

"Are  you  a — detective?" 

"I  am,  sir!" 

"In  his  employ?" 

"Mr. — the  gentleman  referred  to  is  an  old 
friend  of  mine.  I  have  sworn  to  see  him 
through  this  trouble." 

"Were  you  following  me  when  this  paper  fell?" 

"Yes." 

"You  saw  it  drop?" 

"I  did." 

"And  the  maid  who  gave  it — perhaps  you 
followed  her  home." 

"No  matter — I  believe  I  know  all  there  is  to 
be  known  of  this  affair,  sir.  I  am  here  to  advise 
you  to  drop  it  before  you  get  hurt." 

"Would  you  like  to  hear  my  opinion  of  you, 
sir?" 


ig8  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"It  would  in  no  wise  alter  the  one  I  hold  of 
you,  Mr.  Prescott.  Still  it  is  not  my  plan  to 
indulge  in  personalities.  Remember  that  what  I 
do  is  done  as  a  business  and  from  friendship.  I 
wrong  no  honest  man  and  deceive  no  trusting 
woman." 

"You*  make  me  out  a  scamp,  which  I  am  not, 
in  my  own  estimation,"  he  said  hotly. 

"That  is  another  subject  which  we  need  not 
discuss,  sir,  since  our  ideas  would  be  sure  to  be 
at  variance.  You  go  your  way  and  I  go  mine;  but 
at  the  last  I  wish  to  distinctly  warn  you  that  we 
are  prepared  to  give  you  your  deserts  if  you 
persist  in  your  course." 

"You  can  go  to  the  man  who  employs  you 
and  tell  him  for  me  that  Paul  Prescott  defies 
him,  and  will  fight  him  to  the  end!" 

This  was  strange  language — there  was  cer- 
tainly nothing  cringing  here. 

"Very  good.  Your  blood  be  on  your  own  head. 
You  are  watched  when  you  least  expect  it." 

"Be  careful  you  don't  go  too  far  and  get  hurt." 

"Bah!  I  was  in  that  opium  den  last  night 
and  saw  the  tragedy." 

Prescott  started  at  this,  and  looked  uneasy. 

"You  there?" 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  199 

"I  was  the  man  who  took  charge  of  the  re- 
mains of  that  unfortunate  lady." 

"Is  it  possible — I  never  suspected  I  had  seen 
you  previous  to  our  meeting  in  the  car.  What 
did  you  accomplish  ?" 

"The  thing  I  desired.  The  world  will  never 
know  that  lady  died  anywhere  but  in  her  own 
house." 

"Then  you  have  done  a  good  thing,   sir." 

"We  detectives  are  employed  to  do  deeds  of 
mercy  as  well  as  those  of  justice  and  duty.  I 
bid  you  good  day,  Mr,  Prescott." 

He  had  nothing  more  to  say. 

The  man  was  not  one  to  argue  with,  and  hav- 
ing made  up  his  mind  all  the  powers  of  heaven 
and  earth  could  not  change  it. 

This  Eric  read  on  his  face,  and  saw  in  his 
manner — Prescott  was  as  stubborn  as  a  mule  in 
all  he  undertook,  which  perhaps  in  a  measure 
accounted  for  his  success. 

The  detective  was  disappointed. 

He  had  hoped  for  much  and  gained  nothing, 
since  the  other  was  so  set  in  his  ways  as  to  be 
defiant. 

As  Darrell  had  said  there  was  nothing  left 
now  but  to  let  matters  run  their  course. 


200  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

The  puzzle  had  become  deeper  than  ever  to 
him,  and  he  now  accepted  it  without  any  very 
strong  attempt  at  solving  the  enigma. 

He  could  not  understand  how  Lillian  could 
love  such  a  man  as  Prescott  in  preference  to  her 
husband,  except  on  the  theory  that  the  artist 
possessed  some  terrible  power  over  her  whi^h 
she  was  incapable  of  resisting. 

Sadly  he  left  the  building. 

The  game  must  go  on  now  to  the  inevitable 
conclusion — some  one  would  get  hurt,  but  that 
was  to  be  expected. 

What  he  regretted  most  of  all  was  the  shock 
to  poor  Joe. 

Strange  how  such  an  honest,  good  fellow, 
making  a  husband  beyond  all  reproach,  should 
be  thus  afflicted. 

It  often  happens  in  life.  Then  men  who 
deserve  little  are  given  wives  a  thousand  times 
too  good  tor  them. 

All  are  not  mated  who  are  married,  any  more 
with  regard  to  their  character  than  in  their 
stature — we  often  see  a  little  man  and  a  tall  wo- 
man going  along  arm  in  arm  and  smile  as  we 
think  how  incongruous  it  seems,  never  reflecting 
that  their  natures  may  be  more  in  harmony 
than  the  well-mated  pair  ahead. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  201 

The  detective  believed  that  the  guilty  couple 
had  some  plan  matured,  and  that  they  meant 
to  make  their  flight  that  night 

Indications  pointed  to  it. 

He  resolved  then,  to  checkmate  them,  and 
make  the  thing  a  failure. 

Under  no  condition  should  Lillian  be  allowed 
to  go  forth. 

Eric  endeavored  to  picture  Joe's  wife  in  her 
confusion,  when  the  mask  was  torn  off. 

Would  she  prove  a  firebrand? 

He  did  not  believe  it.  It  seemed  utterly  im- 
possible for  a  sweet,  mild-mannered  little  wo- 
man like  Lillian  to  develop  into  a  fury. 

No  doubt,  when  she  found  that  her  secret  was 
known,  she  would  collapse  in  a  heap  at  the  feet 
of  her  husband,  and  he — well,  Eric  believed  Joe 
was  fool  enough  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  for- 
give her. 

How  could  he  learn  what  their  plans  were? 

He  was  thus  pondering  when  he  saw  a  figure 
in  front  of  him  that  he  thought  he  recognized. 
It  was  the  trim  maid  who  had  given  Prescott 
the  note  before. 

Of  course  Eric  might  be  mistaken — there  were 
many  other  like  maids  besides  Mrs.  Leslie's 


2O2  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

particular,  but  having  the  subject  in  his  mind 
he  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  this  must  be 
the  same  party  he  had  seen  before. 

She  was  walking  along  slowly,  looking  up  at 
the  numbers  of  the  great  buildings  as  if  searching 
for  a  particular  one. 

Undoubtedly  she  was  looking  for  the  building 
in  which  the  artist  had  his  studio. 

Quick  as  a  flash  a  plan  came  into  the  detect- 
ive's mind. 

What  should  she  be  looking  for  Prescott  for 
but  to  deliver  a  note? 

He  intercepted  her. 

When  he  saw  her  face  he  discovered  that  she 
was  an  exceedingly  youthful  looking  person  to 
be  about  thirty  years  of  age,  as  Joe  had  declared 
— had  he  been  asked  to  guess  it  he  would  have 
said  seventeen. 

Appearances  are  deceitful,  however,  especially 
when  women  are  concerned. 

As  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  girl,  he 
smiled — she  did  not  look  offended. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  are  you  looking  for 
the  office  of  Paul  Prescott?" 

She  seemed  surprised. 

"How  did  you  know,  sir?" 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  203 

"Because  I  am  a  friend  of  his  with  authority 
to  receive  the  note  you  have  and  keep  it  for 
him.  I  presume  it  is  from  the  same  party  as 
the  one  you  gave  him  last  evening." 

"You  know  about  that,  too?" 

"Of  course — I  saw  it.  Give  me  the  note  and 
tell  the  lady  Paul  has  it,  as  he  will  in  half  an 
hour." 

"But— I—" 

"The  note,  girl." 

She  met  his  eyes,  placed  a  note  in  his  hand 
and  turning  sped  away,  while  the  detective 
chuckled  to  think  what  a  cunning  little  god 
Fortune  was  after  all. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FORTUNE'S  FAVORS 

At  least  luck  favored  him  and  Eric  could  not 
say  anything  against  the  sudden  whirl  of  the 
wheel  that  had  left  him  in  such  an  advantageous 
position. 

He  was  naturally  anxious  to  scan  the  note 
he  held  and  learn  its  contents. 

Looking  around  he  saw  a  candy  and  ice  cream 
saloon  near  by,  where  many  ladies  and  few  gen- 
tlemen passed  in. 

He  believed,  as  the  fall  day  was  warm,  that 
he  could  enjoy  a  plate  of  cream,  so  he  entered, 
selecting  a  table  in  a  corner  that  was  isolated. 

Here  he  gave  his  order,  and  while  enjoying 
his  cream  opened  the  note. 

It  was  sealed  in  the  envelope,  but  the  gum 
had  stuck  poorly,  and  he  could  easily  open  it 
with  his  knife  blade. 

Once  the  contents  lay  open  before  him  he  read: 

"To-night  then  it  shall  be.  We  are  to  have 
304 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  205 

company  at  oui  house.  I  cannot  get  my  trunk 
out  without  arousing  his  suspicions  so  I  have 
sent  everything  to  the  place  you  named  in  pack- 
ages by  my  maid.  Have  the  carriage  around  the 
corner.  I  will  slip  out  while  the  gayety  is  at  its 
height,  meet  you  at  the  door  and  in  a  minute  we 
will  be  beyond  his  reach.  He  has  been  cruel  to 
me,  I  fear  him,  and  yet  I  love  you,  Paul,  and 
will  be  yours  forever." 

This  time  no  signature. 

The  writer  was  learning  caution. 

Even  initials    might  be  dangerous. 

As  for  Eric,  he  read  this  note  over  again  with 
the  deepest  pain  and  surprise. 

"She  means  to  leave  him — there  is  no  doubt 
of  that,  but  what  can  she  have  reference  to  when 
she  speaks  of  his  cruelty?  Joe  cruel — Joe,  the 
kindest,  mildest,  dearest  fellow,  I  ever  knew. 
He  could  only  be  cruel  by  kindness.  Either  he 
has  done  too  much  for  her,  or  else  she  is  not  in 
her  right  mind.  If  that  man  is  cruel  then  Pres- 
cott  is  a  devil,  I'm  sure.  I  would  that  the 
writer  of  this  could  find  out  the  truth — it  would 
serve  her  well  if  we  let  her  go  on  and  reap  as 
she  has  sown  but  for  the  sake  of  my  poor  friend 
she  must  be  saved." 


2o6  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

He  took  out  an  old  envelope  and  with  a  pen- 
cil copied  the  note  verbatim. 

Then  he  enclosed  the  original  in  the  envelope, 
sealed  it  up,  saw  that  the  address  was  correct, 
and  was  ready  to  have  it  delivered. 

When  he  issued  forth  from  the  confectionary, 
he  looked  about  him  until  he  saw  a  bright  ap- 
pearing district  messenger  boy  sauntering  along 
in  the  manner  peculiar  to  his  kind. 

This  youth  he  beckoned  to  his  side. 

"Can  you  spare  five  minutes,  boy?" 

The  other  grinned  and  nodded. 

"Make  it  up  later,  mister." 

"All  right.  Here  is  a  note,  it  is  to  be  taken 
to  the  top  floor  of  this  number  and  delivered  in- 
to the  hands  of  Mr.  Prescott,  the  artist.  You  can 
take  the  elevator  up." 

"All  right,   boss." 

"You  are  to  tell  him  a  girl  dressed  in  black 
and  wearing  a  little  maid's  cap  on  her  head  gave 
you  the  note." 

"Fine  lookin'  maid  you  are,  mister." 

"Never  mind — do  as  I  say.  Here's  fifteen 
cents.  If  you  come  and  report  to  me  the  result, 
I  have  a  quarter  more  for  you." 

"Hey!  I'm  off  like  the  limited  express." 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  207 

So  saying  he  took  note  and  money  and 
plunged  into  the  building  with  hot  haste,  deter- 
mined to  win  the  prize  offered. 

Eric  waited  patiently. 

He  knew  he  would  see  the  boy  again. 

That  silver  quarter  would  serve  as  a  magnet 
to  draw  him  back  to  the  spot. 

Eric  had  not  studied  human  nature  thus  long 
without  being  able  to  guess  certain  things,  and 
in  this  instance  his  surmise  proved  correct. 

Before  the  ten  minutes  had  elapsed  he  saw 
the  messenger  boy  come  flying  along  in  a  way 
that  must  have  amazed  any  person  who  had 
grown  accustomed  to  the  usual  methods  of 
these  lads. 

"Here  you  are,  sir.  Right  side  up  with  care. 
Found  him  in,  and  delivered  the  note." 

The  grin  on  the  boy's  face  declared  also  that 
he  had  been  paid  for  his  work  by  the  artist,  but 
this  was  none  of  Eric's  business. 

He  took  out  a  quarter. 

"See  here  now,  boy,  I  want  you  to  prove 
what  you  say.  What  did  you  do?" 

"Knocked  on  the  door — a  cove  opened  it — 
asked  him  if  Paul  Prescott  was  in — said  as  how 
he  was  the  same — handed  him  the  letter — he 


208  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

opened  it,  grinned,  and  gave  me  a  shiner.  Then 
I  vamosed  the  ranch  and  came  to  you." 

"Did  he  ask  you  where  you  got  it?" 

"I  told  him  the  girl  in  black  racket,  which  was 
really  the  worst  I  ever  heard,  but  the  fellow 
seemed  to  swallow  it  without  question." 

"Describe  the  gentleman." 

This  was  the  crucial  test. 

The  boy  obeyed  without  hesitation,  and 
speedily  proved  that  he  must  have  seen  and 
conversed  with  the  artist  himself. 

After  that  Eric  had  no  good  reason  for  longer 
withholding  the  promised  reward,  which  was 
quickly  stowed  away  in  the  lad's  pocket. 

The  artist's  interview  had  not  resulted  in  all 
that  he  expected,  but  he  could  not  say  it  had 
been  barren  of  profit.  Then  again  what  fol- 
lowed had  made  up  in  a  measure  for  his  defeat. 

He  knew  the  enemy's  plans. 

Thus  it  would  not  be  such  a  tremendous  job 
to  defeat  them.  Should  Joe  know? 

He  believed  it  would  be  policy  to  put  him 
on  his  guard,  and  in  that  way  the  plotting  of 
the  enemy  would  prove  less  profitable.  So  it 
was  to  end  to-night. 

A  carriage  was  to  be  in  waiting  at  the  corner, 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  209 

and  while  Joe's  attention  was  taken  up  with 
entertaining  his  guests,  his  wife  would  slip  out 
and  meet  her  lover. 

Here  was  a  chance  for  a  little  diplomacy. 

For  instance,  perhaps  it  could  be  arranged 
that  the  real  Prescott  be  kidnapped  or  otherwise 
kept  out  of  the  way,  while  Joe  dressed  himself 
up  to  resemble  the  other. 

Then  he  could  carry  off  his  own  wife,  and 
at  the  proper  time  reveal  his  identity,  and  teach 
her  a  terrible  lesson. 

That  would  all  be  decidedly  picturesque  and 
highly  dramatic,  but  there  were  a  number  of 
obstacles  to  it  that  would  have  to  be  overcome 
ere  they  could  accomplish  the  best  result. 

These  difficulties  were  of  such  a  nature  that 
it  seemed  as  though  they  could  not  be  overcome. 

Darrell  cast  around  him  to  see  whether  there 
was  not  some  other  means  handy. 

How  would  it  do  to  have  the  artist  arrested 
on  some  charge  when  on  the  way  to  the  place 
of  meeting? 

He  decided  against  this  on  the  spot,  for  it  was 
very  apt  to  make  the  whole  affair  public  gossip 
for  the  newspapers,  something  Joe  would  rather 
cut  off  his  right  hand  than  have  occur. 


210  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Next  in  order  h«  thought  that  Lillian  might 
be  given  something  to  make  her  sleepy  or  have 
such  a  headache  that  she  could  never  carry  out 
her  part  of  the  arrangement ;  but  this  was  of- 
fensive to  his  official  taste — he  felt  as  though  it 
was  retreating  before  the  attack,  and  it  was  not 
his  intention  to  do  this. 

Finally  he  decided  to  see  Joe — perhaps  the 
other  would  suggest  something  that  might  open 
up  a  plausible  scheme — some  little  hint  dropped 
in  conversation  would  give  Eric  the  clew  he  was 
looking  for. 

Joe  was  still  in  his  office. 

He  looked  surprised  to  see  his  friend,  and  yet 
made  no  remark. 

In  spite  of  his  effort  to  appear  cheerful,  the 
keen  eye  of  the  detective  could  see  the  traces  of 
acute  suffering  in  his  face. 

"I've  been  to  see  that   man,  Joe,"  he  said. 

"You  have?" 

"Yes,  I  thought  it  might  be  best  for  all  con- 
cerned if  I  could  shame  him  into  giving  up  his 
design." 

"That  was  too  bad,  Eric,  I  would  have  for- 
bidden it  had  I  known  your  intention." 

"I  know  it.  The  thought  came  to  me  after  I 
had  seen  you.  I  am  sorry  now  I  went." 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  211 

"You  failed?" 

"I  did  indeed." 

"Well,  don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me.  You  see 
I'm  calm  and  collected." 

Eric  could  not  but  notice  this,  but  he  did  not 
like  it. 

In  his  mind  it  seemed  like  the  awful  stillness 
that  precedes  the  hurricane. 

He  had  no  excuse  for  withholding  anything 
so  he  told  Joe  what  had  occurred.  "That  man 
is  an  accomplished  scoundrel."  the  other  said, 
quietly. 

"I  believe  that  myself,  but  don't  be  afraid  of 
our  not  mastering  him.  I  discovered  one  of  his 
weak  points  after  leaving  him." 

"Trust  you  for  that — what  was  it?" 

Eric  proceeded  to  tell  of  his  adventure. 

"Show  me  the  duplicate,"  said  Joe,  trembling 
with  emotion. 

When  he  had  hastily  read  the  copy  Darrell 
had  made,  he  uttered  a  low  cry  of  despair. 

"Yes,  it  is  so,"  he  muttered. 

"What?" 

"We  are  to  have  company  to-night.  It  is  my 
birthday,  as  I  told  you,  and  my  wife  said  she 
had  invited  a  few  relatives  and  friends  in  to 


212  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

spend  the  evening — an  informal  affair  with  a 
little  supper  of  coffee,  cakes  and  ice  cream.  Yes, 
it  is  all  a  deep-laid  scheme — and  on  my  birth- 
day too.  Oh!  Lillian,  my  wife,  how  could  you  !" 

His  arms  lay  upon  the  table,  and  he  let  his 
head  fall  heavily  upon  them. 

Eric  turned  to  the  window  and  smoked  his 
cigar  in  silence. 

He  had  the  deepest  respect  for  the  grief  of  his 
friend — it  was  the  keenest  misery  a  human  soul 
can  meet  here  below — death  causes  many  pangs, 
^jt  not  the  bitter  blank  that  comes  when  one  is 
betrayed  by  the  individual  he  or  she  had  been 
ready  to  die  for. 

Yes,  from  the  hour  the  base  Judas  betrayed 
his  loving  Master,  human  misery  has  never 
known  a  lower  depth  than  this. 

For  five  minutes  Joe  fought  his  battle  all 
alone,  and  then  he  looked  up. 

His  face  was  set  and  calm,  as  though  he  had 
conquered  again. 

It  was  a  bitter  struggle  and  wearing  upon 
him  but  he  must  go  through  to  the  end. 

"Eric,  I  am  ready  to  converse  again.  Pardon 
my  weakness,  old  friend,  but  this  is  a  cruel 
business.  I  did  not  think  I  was  such  a  baby. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Baby!  Great  heavens!  man,  you  bear  it 
twice  as  well  as  I  could.  Such  a  thing  would 
have  murdered  me  outright." 

They  began  talking  again. 

Eric  spoke  of  his  unformed  plans,  and  be- 
tween them  they  began  to  patch  up  a  scheme 
by  means  of  which  the  end  they  sought  would 
be  attained  without  publicity. 

What  it  was  we  shall  not  disclose  just  now 
leaving  that  for  the  proper  time. 

At  any  rate  it  seemed  to  give  poor  Joe  some 
satisfaction  to  think  he  was  able  to  circumvent 
the  villain  who  had  destroyed  his  peace  of  mind 

"After  all,  it  might  be  better  for  me  to  chal 
lenge  that  man,  and  kill  him,"  he  said  moodily. 

"Yes,  or  leave  Lillian  a  widow,  at  the  mercy 
of  any  adventurer.  Besides,  in  that  way  thf 
whole  dreadful  story  would  get  into  the  papers, 
and  you  could  not  live  in  New  York  even  if 
that  artist  failed  to  murder  you.  No,  you  wiU 
find  that  the  plan  we  have  arranged  is  the  bes' 
after  all." 

"You  are  undoubtedly  right,  Eric — considei 
it  settled,  and  prepare  to  carry  it  out.  We  will 
end  this  agony  this  night  and  that  devil  shall 
learn  what  he  risks  in  attempting  to  steal  another 
man's  treasure." 


214  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"You  will  not  fail  me,  Joe?" 

"It  shall  be  the  effort  of  my  life,  Darrell,  to 
succeed.  Have  no  fears  of  me — my  pride  has 
been  aroused.  It  is  not  the  weak  lover  but  the 
outraged  husband  who  speaks  now." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  TIME  DRAWS  NEAR 

For  once  Joe  Leslie  was  thoroughly  aroused, 
and  the  detective  knew  he  need  have  no  fears 
of  him  again. 

Whatever  he  was  given  to  do  he  would  carry 
out  to  the  letter. 

So  they  noted  with  something  of  satisfaction 
that  the  day  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  the 
night  coming  on,  for  their  hour  could  not  be 
reached  until  darkness  had  for  some  time  settled 
down  over  the  great  city. 

Both  were  anxious  to  have  the  thing  over. 

It  did  not  give  them  much  pleasure,  and  all 
their  satisfaction  arose  in  the  thought  that  jus- 
tice and  right  would  triumph  when  the  man  who 
had  plotted  against  the  peace  of  a  home  went 
down  among  his  idols  of  clay. 

In  these  modern  days  men  have  to  do  strange 
things  when  the  sanctity  of  their  house  has  been 

invaded  by  a  human  serpent. 
215 


2i6  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Sometimes  the  stern  arm  of  the  law  is  called 
upon  for  assistance. 

Now  and  then,  however,  we  read  of  some 
outraged  husband  going  back  to  old  time  princi- 
ples and  being  a  law  unto  himself  on  such  an 
occasion. 

Long  ago  they  had  a  means  of  avenging  such 
wrongs  by  meeting  in  the  lists  with  lance  01 
sword — in  short,  fighting  a  duel. 

The  modern  way  is  perhaps  the  best  if  least 
chivalric  since  it  is  all  in  favor  of  the  man  who 
has  been  wronged,  and  does  not  risk  his  life. 

We  have  seen  that  Joe  was  not  modern  in  his 
ways. 

The  last  thing  he  desired  on  earth  was  to 
make  his  misery  public. 

His  love  for  his  wife  was  wonderful — he  only 
blamed  the  man  who  had  gained  such  power 
over  her  mind  as  to  make  her  irresponsible. 
Just  as  though  there  were  wizards  to-day — the 
times  of  Salem  witchcraft  have  not  returned  to 
haunt  us  again,  thank  heaven. 

Joe  really  did  believe — and  the  shrewd  detect- 
ive allowed  the  same  idea  to  permeate  his  own 
mind  to  a  certain  extent — that  it  was  a  case  where 
a  weak  mind  was  dominated  by  a  masterful  one 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  217 

He  had  known  such  cases,   and   seen  examples 
of  hypnotism  that  had  astonished  him. 

Thus  he  excused  Lillian. 

While  Eric  did  not  go  that  far,  he  believed 
there  were  extenuating  circumstances  connected 
with  the  case,  and  was  willing  to  look  upon  it 
all  in  a  most  lenient  way. 

Probably  he  would  have  acted  in  a  different 
manner  had  it  been  his  own  wife  who  was  con- 
cerned in  the  affair. 

That  was  a  matter  that  brought  the  business 
down  to  mere  speculation,  and  when  it  reached 
this  point  it  became  unprofitable. 

When  the  detective  left  his  friend  he  had 
everything  arranged. 

As  far  as  human  sight  could  see  beyond,  all 
was  ready  for  the  business  in  hand. 

Should  Paul  Prescott  attempt  to  put  hi3  little 
game  into  practice  he  would  find  himself 
brought  up  rather  suddenly. 

There  was  an  hour  or  so  of  daylight  left,  and 
this  Eric  put  to  good  advantage,  as  he  had  a 
number  of  little  things  to  do. 

One  cannot  engage  to  carry  out  a  scheme  like 
this  without  many  accessories  being  needed, 
and  the  wise  man  looks  for  these  before  the 
time  arrives  for  their  use. 


2i8  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Gradually  the  day  gave  way  to  evening. 

Darrell  believed  all  was  arranged. 

He  felt  satisfied  that  before  another  day  came 
around,  Joe's  condition  would  be  changed — this 
night  was  the  crisis — either  his  spirits  must  go 
down  or  else  rise  suddenly. 

All  depended  on  one  person. 

This  was  Lillian. 

To  him  she  was  the  one  object  that  could 
affect  his  future — the  lodestone  that  drew  him 
on. 

When  he  had  made  his  preparations  and  eaten 
a  light  supper  down  town,  Eric  started  for  the 
scene  of  the  coming  comedy. 

He  could  not  pierce  the  future  any  more  than 
any  other  human,  and  hence  knew  not  whether 
it  would  remain  such  or  prove  to  be  a  tragedy. 

Coming  events  may  often  cast  their  shadows 
before,  but  there  are  times  when  the  sun  is 
so  nearly  in  the  zenith  that  this  shadow  does 
not  amount  to  very  much. 

Besides,  what  does  a  shadow  amount  to  any- 
how— it  is  not  tangible,  and  presents  no  oppor- 
tunity for  solution. 

For  once  at  least  in  his  life  the  detective  con- 
fessed himself  unable  to  insure  the  future. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  219 

He  knew  certain  facts,  and  that  others  would 
coalesce,  but  what  the  result  would  be  he  did 
not  pretend  to  be  chemist  enough  to  decide. 

Time  alone  would  tell. 

That  was  the  physician  who  could  be  depended 
upon  to  bind  up  broken  hearts,  to  solve  the 
deepest  mysteries  and  set  everything  right. 

Given  time,  nothing  was  impossible. 

As  the  shades  of  evening  descended,  Darrell 
brought  up  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  building 
on  Fourteenth  Street  where  the  artist's  studio 
was  located. 

He  was  passing  slowly  by  when  a  hack  drove 
up  and  stopped  at  the  curb. 

"Engaged?"  he  asked  the  driver. 

"Sorry,  sir,  but  I  am,"  returned  that  worthy. 

A  jehu  always  hates  to  lose  a  fare. 

"Can't  accommodate  me  up  town?" 

"Right  away?" 

"Yes." 

"Whereto?" 

"About  Eighty-fourth  and  Third  Aveaue." 

The  man's  face  lighted  up — Darrell  was  an- 
swered— he  saw  a  chance  of  doubling  his  fare. 

"I  reckon  the  other 'd  make  no  objection. 
Pay  me  first,  and  I'll  tell  him  I  was  taken  by 
you." 


22O  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"How  much?" 

"One,  fifty." 

Without  a  murmur  the  detective  handed  over 
the  amount,  submitting  to  be  robbed  in  order  to 
carry  out  his  point. 

Of  course  he  was  disguised. 

No  one  would  for  a  moment  imagine  that  this 
old  gentleman  was  the  same  athletic  individ- 
ual who  had  visited  Prescott  in  his  studio,  and 
argued  with  him  over  a  revolver. 

The  clocks  were  striking  seven  as  he  entered 
the  hack  and  made  himself  comfortable. 

Along  the  wide  pavement  hundreds  were  still 
hurrying,  although  the  swarms  from  all  the 
great  stores  had  long  since  passed  by. 

Presently  from  out  the  building  the  artist 
came.  He  looked  worried,  and  well  he  might. 

When  a  man  sets  out  to  steal  another  man's 
wife  he  risks  a  great  deal. 

It  must  weigh  upon  his  mind,  even  the  per- 
sonal danger  involved,  though  his  conscience  be 
free. 

Darrell  recognized  this  fact,  and  did  not 
Wonder  at  the  look  of  anxiety  he  saw  upon  the 
countenance  of  the  artist. 

The  latter  looked  up  and  down  the  street  ere 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  221 

catching  sight  of  the  hack  at  the  curb.  Then  a 
smile  came  upon  his  face. 

He  walked  up  to  the  driver,  spoke  a  few 
words,  frowned  when  the' other  mentioned  hav- 
ing another  passenger,  saw  no  other  vehicle  in 
sight  that  he  could  engage,  glanced  in  at  the 
seeming  old  man,  and  then,  grumbling,  entered. 

"I  trust  I  have  not  inconvenienced  you,  sir," 
remarked  the  old  gentleman,  anxiously. 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  replied  the  artist 
courteously,  though  his  manner  had  belied  his 
words. 

They  rumbled  along. 

Block  after  block  was  left  behind. 

It  is  a  long  distance  from  Fourteenth  Street 
«4>  to  the  point  where  they  were  bound,  and 
when  half  an  hour  had  gone  by  they  had  not  yet 
reached  their  destination. 

Indeed,  it  was  not  far  from  eight  o'clock 
when  the  driver  pulled  up  at  the  corner. 

The  old  gentleman  got  out  slowly. 

He  bade  his  traveling  companion  good  night 
and  turning  walked  away,  his  cane  beating  a 
lively  tattoo  upon  the  stone  pavement. 

Darrell  was  satisfied  with  his  investment  thus 
far — he  had  been  carried  up  town,  had  seen  the 


222  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

artist  well  upon  his  way,  and  knew  both  driver 
and  vehicle  by  sight. 

There  could  not  very  well  be  any  mistake 
after  this — he  believed  things  were  well  laid 
out,  and  that  all  they  needed  was  a  chance  to 
execute  their  plan. 

He  again  changed  his  looks,  so  that  in  case 
the  artist  saw  him  he  would  not  realize  that  he 
had  met  him  before. 

With  the  facilities  at  his  command  it  was  not 
a  difficult  thing  for  him  to  do  this,  and  by  means 
of  a  few  deft  turns  he  completely  altered  his  char- 
acter, and  might  defy  recognition,  even  were 
keener  eyes  concerned  than  those  of  Paul  Pres- 
cott,  the  artist. 

When  this  had  been  done  Darrell  walked  up 
the  avenue,  and  soon  came  to  the  corner  where, 
as  he  expected,  he  found  the  vehicle 

Prescott  was  not  in  sight. 

Some  two  hours  must  elapse  before  the  time 
arranged  would  pass. 

The  driver  had  also  vanished,  no  doubt  being 
in  a  liquor  store  n^ar  by,  where  he  could  wet 
his  whistle,  lounge  at  his  ease  and  watch  his 
team  at  the  same  time. 

His  horses  would  have  a  good  chance  to  rest 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

before  they  were  needed  again,  and  this  was 
probably  one  reason  why  the  artist  had  him  on 
hand  at  such  an  early  hour. 

When  young  Lochinvar  carried  off  his  bride 
he  managed  to  have  a  good  steed,  knowing  that 
everything  depended  on  the  swiftness  of  his 
flight,  as  pursuit  would  be  sudden  and  furious. 

So  Paul  Prescott,  with  an  eye  to  possible 
emergencies,  had  chosen  a  vehicle  that  was 
drawn  by  a  good  team  of  animals. 

He  showed  his  wisdom  here. 

In  case  of  pursuit  it  might  be  his  salvation. 

When  the  detective  sauntered  past  the  house 
upon  which  his  interest  was  centered  he  saw 
that  it  was  lighted  up. 

Company  was  expected. 

Lillian  had  invited  a  few  particular  friends  in 
to  see  them,  on  account  of  its  being  Joe's 
birthday. 

As  yet  they  had  not  begun  to  arrive,  but 
would  soon  appear  upon  the  scene. 

Darrell  heard  a  vehicle  coming,  and  stopped 
in  a  dark  spot  near  by. 

"The  first  of  the  guests,"  he  muttered. 

As  the  carriage  stopped  in  front  of  the  house 
he  gave  a  start. 


224  ~OE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Jupiter!    guests  with  trunks — that's  odd." 

There  was  a  trunk  up  beside  the  driver,  who 
at'once  leaped  to  the  ground. 

As  he  opened  the  door  a  vision  of  jaunty  wraps 
and  bonnets  sprang  out  and  flew  up  the  steps  to 
ring  the  bell,  while  Darrell  held  his  breath  as 
he  guessed  the  truth. 

The  door  opened. 

"Marian!" 

A  flutter  of  feminine  apparel,  a  little  shriek  of 
girlish  delight,  and  the  sisters  were  locked  in 
each  others'  arms,  to  the  wonderment  of  the 
man  who  watched  below. 

Then  the  jehu  carried  in  the  trunk,  the  door 
closed,  the  carriage  rumbled  away  and  the  street 
resumed  its  wonted  appearance. 

Eric  was  puzzled. 

He  had  not  counted  on  this. 

Had  any  of  the  others? 

What  effect  would  it  have  on  the  anticipated 
elopement,  he  wondered. 

Here  was  the  lover  with  his  vehicle  on  hand, 
and  such  a  nature  as  Paul  Prescott's  would  not 
brook  interference. 

The  affair  became  more  complicated. 

Darrell  would  have  given  something  to  have 
had  the  next  two  hours  over. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  225 

As  it  was  he  had  to  possess  his  soul  in  pa- 
tience and  wait. 

Things  that  he  did  not  dream  of  were  fated  to 
turn  up  in  that  time,  and  he  was  bound  to  have 
his  hands  full. 

Guests  soon  began  to  arrive.  Several  came 
in  carriages,  while  others  were  not  far  enough 
away  to  bother  with  vehicles. 

It  was  no  fashionable  gathering,  but  one  of 
warm  friends,  of  whom  Joe  Leslie  had  many. 

His  business  and  social  life  was  such  that  he 
drew  people  to  him,  making  many  friends  and 
few  enemies,  which  is  after  all  the  only  true 
way  to  go  through  this  world. 


CHAPTER   XX 

FOR  PLUNDER 

At  about  a  quarter  to  nine  Darrell  once  more 
sauntered  past  the  house. 

He  could  see  into  the  parlor,  as  the  inside 
shutters  were  turned,  and  with  a  number  of 
others  he  was  attracted  by  the  bright  scene. 

Although  perhaps  he  would  not  confess  it, 
the  bachelor  detective  was  eagerly  hoping  for 
even  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  Marian. 

He  got  it  too. 

After  having  seen  the  photograph  Lillian  had 
shown  him,  he  knew  he  could  not  be  mistaken. 

The  girl  stood  for  half  a  minute  in  direct  focus 
from  his  place  of  observation,  and  the  gas-light 
fell  full  upon  her  face  and  figure. 

Darrell  drew  in  a  long  breath. 

"That  settles  it,"  he  muttered,  "I'll  try— un- 
less this  other  affair  takes  the  heart  out  of  me." 
He  had  lived  between  thirty-five  and  forty  years 

without  ever  having  a  serioun   love  scrape;  bat 
226 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  327 

an  inward  monitor  told  him  his  time  had  come 
at  last. 

The  little  god  plays  all  manner  of  pranks  with 
his  victims,  and  although  Eric  Darrell  had  elud- 
ed his  sway  so  long,  it  would  all  be  made  up  to 
him  presently. 

As  Marian  stood  there  she  was  joined  by  a 
second  figure. 

This  was  Joe. 

Eric  c  canned  his  face  eagerly,  as  best  he  could 
under  the  circumstances. 

"Thank  heaven!  Joe  is  calm.  He  has  aroused 
his  energies.  No  danger  of  his  giving  out  when 
the  crucial  test  comes,"  he  muttered. 

Joe  Leslie  did  appear  self-possessed,  but  it 
was  easy  to  be  seen  that  he  was  not  himself  this 
evening. 

His  wife  accounted  for  it  to  the  friends  about 
her  by  stating  that  Joe  had  been  overworking 
himself  lately,  and  that  morning  he  complained 
of  a  severe  headache. 

She  did  not  seem  to  suspect  that  she  had  given 
him  cause  for  his  breakdown. 

None  are  so  blind  as  those  who  refuse  to  see. 

It  might  be  this  or  innocence  that  caused  her 
to  ignore  the  truth. 


228  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Eric,  with  a  sigh,  passed  on. 

He  had  seen  Lillian  join  the  others,  and  the 
trio  gave  him  a  strange  feeling. 

"So  fair,  and  yet  so  false.  How  can  a  man 
trust  a  woman  when  he  has  such  a  terrible  ex- 
ample before  his  eyes — and  her  sister  too." 

He  soon  forgot  all  this.  Something  else  at- 
tracted his  attention,  and  he  found  that  there 
was  need  of  his  care.  A  couple  of  sinister-looking 
men  passed  the  house  and  looked  in. 

He  saw  them  conversing  ---^erly  together  a 
minute  or  two  later  just  beyond. 

At  first  an  idea  sprang  into  his  head  that  they 
/night  be  men  hired  by  Prescott  to  create  a  dis- 
turbance and  delay  pursuit  after  the  latter  had 
succeeded  in  reaching  his  carriage  with  Lillian. 

If  this  were  so,  he  must  take  them  into  his 
calculations  and  watch  them  closely.  That  their 
conversation  concerned  the  house  where  the 
little  gathering  was  taking  place  was  beyond  all 
doubt,  for  their  motions  attested  this. 

Then  they  moved  off. 

Eric  did  not  believe  they  had  gone,  and  he 
followed  them  with  his  eyes. 

They  slipped  into  a  vacant  lot  near  by,  and 
the  detective  began  to  get  a  new  idea. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 


229 


Perhaps  these  fellows  were  not  in  the  employ 
of  the  artist  after  all,  but  skirmishing  around 
on  their  own  hook. 

That  meant  knavery! 

He  was  aroused. 

To  follow  them  was  his  first  thought. 

Stealing  down  to  the  vacant  lot  he  too  van- 
ished amid  its  blackness. 

At  first  he  could  see  and  hear  nothing,  but 
in  a  few  minutes  he  caught  a  clew,  and  found 
that  the  two  men  had  gone  to  the  fence  sepa- 
rating the  vacant  lot  from  Joe's  back  yard. 

Some  old  wagons  and  drays  were  scattered 
here  and  there  about  the  place,  for  it  presented 
an  admirable  wagon  yard. 

Such  is  cosmopolitan  New  York. 

The  palace  often  touches  the  hovel. 

Some  of  the  aristocrats  up  town  can  look  out 
from  their  magnificent  houses,  and  survey  the 
shanty  of  the  squatter  built  on  the  rocks,  where 
the  agile  goat  browses  on  old  shoes  and  empty 
cans. 

Some  day  this  will  not  be,  but  it  is  so  now, 
and  a  source  of  wonder  to  foreigners. 

Darrell  began  to  pick  his  way  through  the 
wagon  yard,  careful  to  proceed  without  noise, 


230  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

for  wl.en  men  are  bent  upon  an  unlawful  errand 
it  does  not  take  much  of  a  sound  to  cause  palpi- 
tation of  the  heart,  and  he  did  not  want  to  have 
their  death  on  his  hands — just  yet. 

They  seemed  to  be  surveying  the  scene  from 
the  rear. 

It  was  undoubtedly  their  intention  to  make 
some  sort  of  a  haul  here. 

The  silver  might  be  lying  around  loose,  or 
even  some  jewelry  in  the  upper  rooms — men  of 
their  trade  do  not  discriminate,  so  long  as  what 
they  seize  upon  has  a  specific  value. 

First,  last  and  all  the  time,  what  they  want 
is  the  cold  cash. 

It  was  certain  that  they  must  be  frightened 
away,  and  that  at  once. 

His  other  business  was  too  important  to  allow 
him  the  pleasure  of  playing  with  these  fellows, 
much  as  he  might  have  enjoyed  it. 

Under  these  circumstances  he  worked  his 
vyay  close  to  where  they  crouched. 

He  could  hear  them  working  with  a  chisel  or 
burglar  s  tool  of  some  sort — they  were  prying 
off  a  board  from  the  fence,  so  that  they  might 
easily  pass  through  when  they  desired. 

It  would  be  a  good  route  for  flight,  also,  after 
their  object  was  attained. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  231 

So  interested  were  they  in  the  task  that  they 
did  not  have  the  faintest  suspicion  of  the  pres- 
ence of  any  one. 

Darrell  could  hear  their  low  words 

"Bill,  this  here  promises  to  be  a  lucky  strike," 
said  one,  in  a  low  tone. 

Bill  muttered  a  reply. 

"Well,  I'm  of  the  opinion,  Bill,  as  we'll  have 
a  good  whack  at  some  valuables.  Ye  see,  the 
guests  are  all  in  there — if  we  can  deceive  the 
gal  below  and  slip  upstairs  there  ought  to  be 
fat  pickings  for  fellers  of  our  size." 

"Softly,  partner,  softly — there's  another  in 
this  here  game  you  ain't  counted  on." 

As  these  words  reached  their  ears,  the  two 
men  muttered  exclamations  of  dismay. 

"Who  the  deuce  is  it?" 

"Where  in  thunder  is  he?" 

"I'm  right  here.  You  fellows  are  treading 
on  my  corns.  This  is  my  pasture — get  out." 

"Not  much  we  won't.  We'll  slit  your  wizen 
first,  I  reckon.  We're  in  this  here  game  now 
for  keeps,"  growled  the  man  named  Bill. 

"Then  you  must  go  snacks.  I'll  furnish  the 
information,  and  you  do  the  work — an  equaliza- 
tion of  labor — ain't  that  fair?" 


232  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"What  d'ye  know,  critter?" 

"Where  the  silver  is  kept — it  ain't  been 
brought  out  yet  awhile,  and  by  a  little  bold 
work  the  hull  of  it  can  be  spirited  away." 

At  this  the  two  men  can  hardly  restrain  their 
delight. 

"Lead  us  to  it,  and  the  third  is  yourn." 

"You're  on  the  steal,  then?" 

"Ready,  to  take  anything  that  counts." 

"This  is  the  steel  I  deal  in." 

One  of  the  men,  the  fellow  nearest  him,  felt 
something  like  a  piece  of  ice  pressed  against  his 
left  temple. 

He  put  up  his  hand. 

The  investigation  did  not  afford  him  any  par- 
ticular pleasure,  for  what  he  touched  sent  a 
shiver  through  his  whole  frame. 

It  was  a  cold  revolver. 

"Move  a  hand  or  a  foot  and  you  are  a  dead 
man.  And  you  also,"  to  the  other  fellow. 

The  board  had  just  come  off  in  this  latter 
chap's  arms,  and  light  from  the  house  poured 
through  the  opening  in  a  stream  that  was  strong 
enough  to  show  him  the  situation. 

He  dared  not  drop  the  board,  and  he  was 
also  prevented  from  attacking  the  unknown. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Eric  was  master  of  the  situation. 

"Now  see  here,  men,  listen  to  me." 

"Go  ahead!"  growled  one. 

"In  mercy's  name  don't  press  that  trigger," 
groaned  the  other. 

Darrell  had  to  smile  at  the  sudden  termination 
to  which  circumstances  had  brought  the  bold 
raid  of  the  two  sneak  thieves. 

They  had  come  after  plunder,  but  found 
something  more  awaiting  them. 

The  little  scheme,  concocted  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment,  had  been  driven  into  obscurity. 

"I  am  a  detective,  watching  this  house." 

Both  men  groaned. 

"Fools  we  was." 

"And  although  I'm  going  to  let  you  go  this 
time,  if  I  see  either  of  you  here  again  you'll 
make  a  bee-line  for  the  Tombs." 

"Don't  worry,  mister — if  we  get  off  this  time 
we'll  make  ourselves  scarce.  It  gives  me  a  chill 
to  think  of  Sing  Sing." 

"You  ought  to  get  the  chill  before  you  start 
on  such  an  expedition,  and  not  after  you  are 
caught.  You  know  that  when  'the  devil  was 
sick,  the  devil  a  monk  would  be ;  but  when  the 
devil  got  well,  the  devil  a  monk  was  he'." 


234  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"Kin  we  go,  mister?" 

"Yes — pass  out  the  front  door,  gentlemen,  just 
as  you  came  in.  And,  remember,  once  goes  a 
long  way  with  me — if  you  show  up  here  again, 
down  you  go  to  Centre  Street." 

"Tnank  ye,  boss." 

The  men  crept  quickly  away — indeed,  their 
haste  was  really  ludicrous,  for  they  seemed  to 
have  a  deep-rooted  fear  lest  he  might  be  tempted 
to  change  his  mind. 

But  under  the  circumstances  Eric  was  quite 
satisfied  to  see  them  safely  off  the  premises. 

His  other  work  would  take  up  his  attention, 
and  he  could  not  expect  to  amuse  himself  with 
such  side-shows  as  these. 

He  once  more  made  his  way  to  the  street. 

As  before  a  little  knot  of  curious  people  stood 
in  front  of  the  house  gazing  in.  The  glimpses 
they  caught  of  beautiful  women  and  brave  men 
were  a  revelation  to  them.  It  was  like  looking 
into  Paradise.  Otherwise  the  street  was  quiet. 

A  train  boomed  past  on  the  elevated  road  be- 
low. Eric  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  a  quar- 
ter past  nine. 

Three-quarters  of  an  hour  still  remained,  and 
then  would  come  the  grand  climax. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  235 

He  began  to  breathe  easier,  for  time  was  pass- 
ing, and  he  felt  sure  their  plans  would  come  out 
all  right. 

Sauntering  to  the  corner  he  saw  the  hack  still 
there  as  he  had  left  it. 

The  driver  was  sitting  inside  now. 

He  knew  his  orders  and  only  waited  for  the 
proper  time  to  arrive. 

Where  was  Prescott? 

Eric  had  expected  to  see  him  scouting  around 
the  Leslie  mansion,  but  if  the  artist  was  there  he 
had  kept  his  person  well  concealed.  Not  yet 
had  Eric  doubted  the  motives  that  brought  the 
other  here. 

Everything  seemed  to  fit  as  snugly  as  though 
it  had  been  made  for  it — when  a  carpenter 
makes  a  neat  job  he  dove-tails  the  corners, 
and  Darrell  looked  upon  the  many  little  things 
that  connected  so  wonderfully,  as  the  finishing 
touches  of  the  joiner. 

If  a  thunder  cloud  burst  upon  him  it  would 
certainly  take  him  unawares,  while  the  cool  rain 
might  be  very  acceptable. 

He  began  to  count  the  minutes. 

Seldom  had  this  man  ever  felt  any  such  thing 
as  nervousness  in  his  life,  but  just  now  he  cex- 


236  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

tainly  experienced  a  spell  of  it.  The  minutes 
seemed  hours. 

People  walked  along  the  street — he  scrutinized 
every  one  as  though  he  expected  to  see  a  ghost 
appear. 

In  reality  he  was  looking  for  Prescott. 

It  worried  him  to  know  that  the  man  was 
somewhere  around  and  yet  out  of  sight,  though 
he  did  not  doubt  but  what  he  would  be  on  hand 
when  needed. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  COTTAGE  BEYOND  THE  HARLEM 

Sometimes  things  do  not  run  quite  as  smooth- 
ly as  we  hope  for. 

The  best  laid  plans  of  mice  and  men  often  go 
wrong — there's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and 
the  lip. 

So  it  happened  on  the  present  occasion. 

It  was  all  owing  to  a  certain  clock  which  had 
taken  a  notion  to  get  ahead  of  its  fellows  and 
was  some  ten  minutes  fast. 

A  lamp  set  Chicago  on  fire. 

So  this  unlucky  clock  upset  the  beautiful 
plans  of  the  wily  detective,  as  he  believed,  and 
came  near  leaving  him  in  the  lurch. 

By  chance  he  was  down  near  the  corner  when 
suddenly  he  saw  a  female  hurrying  that  way'. 

A  long  cloak  concealed  her  figure,  but  a  hand- 
some dress  of  white  silk  peeped  below — a  heavy 
veil  had  been  snatched  up  to  hide  her  face  and 

ferve  in  lieu  of  a  hat  at  the  same  time. 

23? 


338  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Where  she  came  from  he  hardly  knew,  but  a 
terrible  fear  almost  palsied  him. 

It  was  Lillian! 

She  had  come  ahead  of  time — Joe  would  not 
be  ready,  and  as  a  result  confusion  must  ensue. 

Luckily  the  detective  was  a  man  able  to  grasp 
an  emergency. 

He  never  yet  had  seen  the  time  when  he  was 
so  taken  by  surprise  that  his  mind  refused  to  do 
its  work. 

Just  then  there  was  need  of  quick  thought, 
and  action  must  follow  on  its  heels. 

Hardly  had  the  woman  paused  upon  the  corner 
than  a  dark  figure  sprang  out  of  the  shadows 
near  by. 

"Paul!"  she  whispered. 

"Good  heavens!  you  are  ten  minutes  ahead 
of  time,  darling.  I  would  have  met  you  at  the 
place  appointed  had — "  the  rush  of  a  train 
drowned  what  else  he  said. 

Then  the  detective  saw  him  assist  the  now 
shrinking  figure  toward  the  carriage. 

"He  will  be  furious,"  he  heard  her  say,  as 
she  looked  apprehensively  around,  as  though 
anticipating  the  appearance  of  an  enraged  hus- 
band on  the  scene. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  239 

If  these  were  her  sensations  now,  what  of  th* 
future — remorse  must  soon  kill  her. 

"He  had  better  keep  his  hands  off,  or  I  will 
teach  him  a  lesson!  The  cowardly  cur,  to  bully 
you  so.  Enter,  darling — you  are  safe  with  me." 

Eric's  first  impulse  was  for  blood. 

He  felt  strongly  inclined  to  spring  forward 
and  grapple  with  this  boaster,  who  breathed 
such  lies  of  Joe  in  his  wife's  ears. 

Then  another  thought  came. 

Such  a  public  scene  would  immediately  collect 
a  crowd  at  the  corner,  and  Lillian's  name  would 
be  dragged  in  the  dust. 

The  world  has  no  mercy  upon  a  woman  who 
leaves  her  husband  and  runs  away  with  another 
man — the  latter  loses  no  caste,  but  she,  poor 
creature,  can  never  climb  up  again. 

That  is  the  law  of  human  justice — woman  was 
given  a  nobler,  purer  nature  than  man,  and 
when  she  sins  it  is  unpardonable. 

It  has  been  so  ever  since  the  world  was,  and 
will  be  the  same  always. 

While  Eric  struggled  between  what  he  desired 
to  do  and  what  policy  dictated,  the  choice  was 
taken  from  him  altogether. 

Fate  decided. 


«4<>  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Prescott  had  placed  his  charge  in  the  hack 
and  entered  himself. 

The  driver  slammed  the  door,  and  mounted 
nimbly  to  his  box. 

If  Eric  mean  to  act  it  must  be  now,  or  the 
chance  was  gone  forever. 

Already  the  vehicle  was  moving. 

Now  or  never! 

Obeying  a  sudden  impulse  to  make  the  most 
of  a  bad  bargain,  he  ran  after  the  hack. 

It  had  not  gained  much  headway  as  yet,  and 
Eric  caught  on  behind. 

Here  he  conceived  another  one  of  those  sud- 
den fancies,  and  saw  an  opportunity  to  climb 
up  on  top  of  the  vehicle. 

Fortunately  for  his  purpose  it  presented  good 
opportunities  for  such  gymnastic  feats. 

No  one  but  a  boy  or  an  exceedingly  agile  man 
could  have  accomplished  this  thing;  but  the 
detective  certainly  filled  the  bill  so  far  as  the 
latter  condition  was  concerned. 

He  pulled  himself  up — his  feet  secured  a  hold 
upon  the  springs,  and  his  hands  grasped  a 
clutch  above. 

Then  he  drew  himself  upon  the  top. 

A  few  boys  along  the  pavement  noticed   this 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  241 

but  they  only  supposed  this  was  some  peculiar 
way  in  which  a  man  could  gain  a  seat  beside 
the  driver. 

Those  inside  were  too  busily  engaged  in  ex- 
changing confidences  to  notice  anything. 

As  for  the  jehu,  he  was  so  much  taken  up 
with  his  horses,  avoiding  obstructions  for  which 
Third  Avenne  is  notorious,  that  he  never 
dreamed  of  the  odd  passenger  he  had  picked  up, 
until  Eric  plumped  down  on  the  box  beside  him. 

"Great  Scott!  where  did  you  drop  from?"  he 
ejaculated  ia  dismay,  looking  up  as  if  he  really 
suspected  the  unknown  had  rained  down. 

"Don't  worry  yourself — I  only  climbed  up 
over  the  back,"  returned  Eric  coolly. 

"Then  just  you  climb  down  again  in  a  hurry, 
or  I'll  toss  you  over,"  and  the  man,  firing  up 
after  his  sudden  scare,  looked  ugly  enough  to 
carry  his  threat  into  execution. 

"Some  other  time,  old  fellow — just  now  this 
place  suits  me  as  well  as  any,  and  here  I  stay." 

The  rattle  of  the  swiftly  moving  vehicle  over 
the  granite  blocks  would  prevent  any  one  from 
hearing  this  interesting  dialogue — the  parties 
interested  were  shouting  in  each  other's  ears. 

Perhaps  there  was  something  about  Eric  that 


242  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

aroused  a  spirit  of  animosity  in  the  other; 
but  if  so  there  must  also  have  been  that  which 
warned  him  to  be  exceedingly  careful. 

He  showed  signs  of  anger,  and  yet  dared  not 
raise  his  hand  in  open  rebellion 

"What  d'ye  mean  stealing  a  ride  this  way?" 

"Just  because  I  please.  Look  down  here  and 
you'll  see  something." 

The  quarrelsome  jehu  obeyed. 

He  looked — and  wilted. 

"Jupiter!" 

This  man  was  not  the  first  who  ever  felt  his 
courage  ooze  from  his  finger  ends  at  sight  of  a 
revolver. 

"Understand  me,"  said  the  detective,  sternly, 
"that  is  for  you  if  you  give  me  any  trouble." 

"A  crazy  man  escaping — a  burglar  at  large!" 

"No,  sir,  a  detective  running  down  his  game. 
We  understand  each  other,  I  hope.  I  want  a 
ride  on  your  vehicle,  and  if  you  give  me  any 
trouble  I'll  land  you  in  the  Tombs  double 
quick  as  accessory  to  a  murder." 

The  word  was  quite  enough. 

It  blanched  the  man's  cheeks  and  from  that 
time  on  the  detective  knew  he  would  not  have 
any  trouble  with  him. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  243 

The  horses  were  doing  their  prettiest. 

To  the  surprise  of  the  detective,  instead  of 
starting  down  Third  Avenue,  the  course  was  up 
it. 

Evidently  then  the  artist  did  not  mean  to  go 
either  to  his  studio  or  lodgings. 

He  had  other  plans  in  view. 

Now  Eric  was  given  a  chance  to  think,  and 
he  improved  it  well. 

So  suddenly  had  this  crisis  been  sprung  upon 
the  detective  that  he  had  thus  far  only  acted 
from  impulse. 

He  must  shape  some  sort  of  plan,  in  order  to 
yet  win  the  game. 

Those  inside  the  hack  had  not  the  slightest 
suspicion  of  his  presence. 

The  rattle  of  the  vehicle  and  their  own  agita- 
tion would  prevent  their  paying  any  attention  to 
anything  happening  outside. 

As  the  night  air  was  cool,  all  the  openings 
had  the  glass  in  them — this  was  another  point 
in  the  detective's  favor. 

No  doubt  Paul  Prescott  was  thrilled  with  the 
great  victory  he  had  won,  and  believed  nothing 
could  keep  him  from  accomplishing  the  end 
toward  which  he  had  planned  so  long,  little  sus- 
peeting  the  danger  hovering  near. 


On  went  the  vehicle. 

Harlem  was  gained,  that  new  city  that  has 
of  late  years  sprung  up  beside  the  river,  a  part 
of  New  York,  and  yet  really  distinct  fom  it. 

Darrell  had  once  more  become  the  cool  man 
as  of  yore,  ready  to  grapple  with  this  burning 
question,  and  throttle  the  hydra  headed  monster 
that  had  crossed  the  track  of  Joe  Leslie's  wife. 

He  smiled  to  think  what  poor  Joe  must  be 
doing  just  then — rinding  Lillian  really  gone  and 
the  detective  not  on  hand.  Had  he  given  the 
whole  thing  away?  Would  all  his  guests  know 
that  his  wife  had  deserted  him  for  another? 

This  was  a  possibility  that  made  Eric  grit  his 
teeth  and  feel  angry  at  the  peculiar  chance  that 
had  cheated  him  of  his  prey.  If  things  had  only 
worked  as  they  should,  the  wheels  would  have 
gone  along  nicely.  However,  Eric  had  learned 
long  ago  the  folly  of  crying  over  spilt  milk,  and 
when  a  disaster  occurred  he  generally  set  about 
retrieving  his  fortunes  as  well  as  possible. 

They  were  nearing  the   Harlem. 

Would  the  vehicle  cross  the  bridge  and  pro- 
ceed up  into  the  country  beyond? 

Pursuit — it  was  folly  to  think  of  any  one  be- 
ing able  to  pursue  them,  at  least  for  some  time 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  245 

to  come,  and  a  trail  grows  cold   with    waiting. 

No  wonder  then  the  artist  felt  jolly. 

He  believed  his  plan  had  been  a  complete 
success,  and  that  the  prize  was  his  own. 

Ah!  the  Harlem  at  last. 

Those  curved  lines  of  lights  indicated  the 
bridge  that  stretched  across. 

The  horses'  feet  fall  upon  the  planking — their 
course  then  was  over  the  river. 

As  for  Eric,  he  was  quite  indifferent  now 
whither  they  took  him. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  see  this  thing 
through  and  to  save  Lillian  for  his  friend  and 
it  did  not  matter  whether  the  climax  came  to  pass 
in  the  city  or  country. 

He  meant  it  should  be  severe. 

As  Joe  Leslie's  best  friend  he  would  teach  this 
masher  a  lesson  he  would  never  forget  if  he  sur- 
vived it.  The  driver  once  or  twice  tried  to  strike 
up  a  conversation  with  him,  but  Eric  ordered 
him  to  pay  no  attention  to  anything  but  his 
horses.  Then  a  thought  corning  to  him,  he  told 
the  man  that  if  the  gentleman  inside  should  no- 
tice his  presence  and  demand  to  know  who  he 
was,  that  the  driver  should  claim  him  as  a  friend 
and  let  it  pass. 


246  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

This  the  man  said  he  would  do — he  had  a 
horror  of  being  concerned  in  a  murder  trial, 
and  this  was  what  the  other  threatened  him  with. 

They  crossed  the  bridge  and  continued  on— 
houses  were  plenty,  gas  lamps  dispelled  the  dark- 
ness at  intervals,  but  at  the  same  time  there 
seemed  to  be  something  of  the  country  about 
them — the  great  metropolis  with  its  two  mill- 
ions of  inhabitants,  its  bustle  and  electric  lights 
lay  behind  them. 

For  a  short  time  longer  the  night  ride  was 
continued,  and  then,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
detective,  it  ended. 

They  came  to  a  quiet  street. 

The  artist  poked  his  head  out  of  the  window 
which  he  had  dropped  in  the  door. 

"To  the  left — first  house  you  come  to." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

"Hello,  there!  who  the  deuce  have  you  with 
you,  driver?"  as  he  caught  sight  of  Eric. 

"A  friend,  sir  Thought  it'd  be  a  lonely  ride 
back,  and  took  him  for  company,"  replied  jehu, 

"All  right,  I  suppose." 

That  was  over  then,  and  no  damage  done. 

Now  for  the  next 

The  hack  drew  up  in  front  of  a   picturesque 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  247 

cottage,  just  back  from  the  road — as  far  as  Eric 
could  see  it  was  bowered  in  vines  and  just  the 
place  an  artist  might  be  supposed  to  select,  if  he 
used  his  artistic  taste  at  all. 

Lights  were  in  the  rooms, 

They  must  be  expected. 

Down  jumped  the  driver — Eric  followed  close 
upon  his  heels,  for  he  did  not  mean  to  give  the 
fellow  any  chance  to  betray  him,  and  he  knew 
it  would  be  human  nature  for  the  jehu  to  en- 
deavor to  warn  his  liberal  patron. 


CHAPTER  XXI? 

ALMOST 

Again  the  detective  showed  his  knowledge  01 
the  animal — man. 

The  driver  had  been  thinking  of  this  very 
thing,  and  as  the  artist  came  out  of  the  hack  first 
he  made  a  great  ado  over  helping  him.  At  the 
same  time  he  started  to  say: 

"You'd  better  be  careful,  sir — there's — " 

At  this  moment  came  a  pinch  on  his  arm  fron* 
the  detective,  and  he  realized  that  the  other  was 
up  to  his  little  game. 

"What  s  that?"  demanded  Prescott. 

By  this  time  Eric  had  managed  to  touch  one 
of  the  jehu  s  hands  with  the  barrel  of  his  revolver,, 

The  contact  sent  a  shudder  through  the  other* 

"There's  bad  step  here — the  lady  might  be 
hurt,"  finished  the  driver. 

"Oh!  I  11  look  after  her,  my  man." 

He  handed  the  jehu  some  bills.    "There  t  tht 
MS 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  249 

amount  agreed  on  and  ten  dollars  more,  because 
you've  been  faithful." 

"Thanks,    your  honor,"  stammeied  the   man. 

He  acted  as  though  he  was  tempted  to  blurt 
out  the  truth  and  take  the  consequences,  but 
Eric  managed  to  whisper  something  to  him  that 
quieted  this  suicidal  thought. 

"You've  got  your  money — keep  quiet,  and 
I'll  put  you  in  the  way  of  ten  more." 

That  was  enough. 

The  man's  sordid  nature  was  touched — he  was 
mercenary  to  an  unusual  degree. 

After  that  he  was  for  earning  the  new  fee, 
even  at  the  expense  of  treachery  to  his  former 
patron.  Prescott  assisted  the  lady  companion 
of  his  flight  out  with  much  solicitude. 

Still  Eric  did  not  interfere. 

He  was  strongly  tempted  to  knock  the  artist 
down,  seize  the  lady  perhaps  as  she  swooned, 
and  placing  her  back  in  the  vehicle,  drive  to  the 
desecrated  home  of  his  friend. 

Something  restrained  him. 

He  would  see  more. 

What  meant  the  lights  in  the  house? 

Something  here  needed  investigation,  and  he 
was  the  man  to  look  Into  it. 


250  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

He  saw  the  couple  enter  the  yard  and  proceed 
in  the  direction  of  the  front  door. 

It  opened. 

A  woman's  form  stood  there. 

"Welcome,  Mr.  Prescott.  We  heard  the 
wheels  and  were  sure  it  was  you.  Welcome  to 
your  home,  Mrs.  — " 

The  rest  died  out  as  they  went  in,  and  the  de- 
tective heard  no  more. 

He  was  amazed.  How  daring  the  artist  was. 
How  openly  he  carried  out  his  plans. 

Most  men  would  have  taken  a  train  ana  sped 
away  like  the  wind,  fearing  the  terrible  ven- 
geance of  an  outraged  husband. 

He  did  not  seem  to  realize  the  danger  he 
incurred,  or  else  had  a  contempt  for  it. 

Eric  was  in  doubt  whether  this  man  was  a 
fool  or  a  brave  fellow. 

Perhaps  he  was  cunning  enough  to  know  that 
in  all  probability  the  husband  would  seek  for 
him  at  a  distance,  and  overlook  the  near  places. 
This  would  be  wisdom. 

Eric  now  turned  to  the  man. 

"See  here,  my  fine  fellow,  I  have  your  num- 
ber, and  if  you  play  me  false  I'll  land  you  be- 
hind the  bars  inside  of  twelve  hours  if  it  takes 


JOE  LESLIE'S  wi*lc  251 

every  officer  on  the  force  to  do  it.  You  hear 
what  I  am  saying.  Serve  me  well  and  what  I 
promised  is  yours.  I  have  already  paid  you 
money  to-night." 

"You?" 

"Certainly — I  was  the  old  man  who  rode  up 
from  Fourteenth  Street  with  you." 

"Jerusalem!" 

The  driver  saw  that  he  had  to  deal  with  a 
shrewd  man — he  admired  such  a  person,  and 
could  well  afford  to  fall  in  behind  him. 

After  that  there  would  be  no  kick  on  his  part 
against  what  fate  had  decided  for  him,  but  he 
would  pull  in  the  traces  meekly. 

Satisfied  that  the  man  would  be  there  when 
he  wanted  him,  Eric  now  turned  his  attention 
toward  the  house. 

He  entered  the  gate. 

As  he  had  supposed  from  the  glance  be  had 
obtained,  the  place  was  an  ideal  one  for  the  full 
expression  of  love  in  a  cottage. 

Flowers  probably  bloomed  here  from  May 
until  bleak  November. 

Honeysuckles  and  wisteria  covered  the  cot- 
tage— rose  bushes  and  dozens  of  varieties  of 
flowers  filled  the  beds,  but  just  t&en  beautiful 


252  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

chrysanthemums  were  taking  their  rank  as  the 
faL  dower. 

It  was  a  place  to  bring  a  bride,  but  would 
these  beauties  of  nature  appeal  to  a  heart  that 
was  heavy  with  sin? 

Eric  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  see  how  one 
could  look  upon  nature  again,  after  ruining  the 
life  of  a  noble  man,  but  his  experience  had 
taught  him  to  be  surprised  at  nothing. 

He  did  not  speculate  now. 

Before  him  was  duty. 

It  lay  in  a  direct  line,  and  the  path  was  nar- 
row, but  he  meant  to  tread  it. 

That  duty  covered  his  professional  pride,  and 
the  feeling  he  entertained  for  his  friend.  Straight 
up  to  the  house  he  went.  Light  streamed  from 
the  windows  and  showed  him  the  way — it  also 
tempted  him  to  look  in.  He  saw  a  cozy  little 
room  neatly  furnished. 

Handsome  paintings  adorned  the  walls,  rather 
out  of  place  in  a  modest  cottage  like  this,  but 
then  it  was  to  be  the  abode  of  an  artist,  whose 
pictures  commanded  large  sums,  and  he  could 
afford  to  decorate  above  the  ordinary — these 
were  doubtless  favorite  subjects  of  his  which  he 
did  not  hold  for  sale. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  253 

No  one  seemed  to  be  in  this  room,  and  he 
could  not  see  in  the  other  well,  for  the  lamp 
was  standing  directly  in  the  window,  so  that  he 
could  not  look  past  it. 

He  found  a  path  leading  around  the  house 
and  started  along  it. 

Before  he  had  gone  far,  the  rattle  of  a  chain, 
followed  by  a  deep  growl,  told  him  he  had  better 
retrace  his  steps  again — not  wishing  to  come 
into  contact  with  the  concealed  dog,  he  did  so. 

This  time  he  went  to  the  front  door,  which 
was  almost  concealed  under  the  bower  of  vines. 

Feeling  around  he  found  the  knob.  Upon 
trying  it  he  was  pleased  to  find  that  the  door 
was  not  secured,  and  answered  to  his  touch. 

He  opened  it  boldly.  A  hall  was  before  him. 
Just  then  it  was  unoccupied,  and  the  uninvit- 
ed guest  was  able  to  step  in,  close  the  door,  and 
look  around  for  some  place  of  concealment. 
This  he  easily  found. 

The  hall  offered  numerous  opportunities  for 
hiding  if  one  felt  inclined  that  way,  and  Eric 
speedily  ensconced  himself  in  a  place  where  he 
was  not  apt  to  be  seen.  He  remained  here 
awaiting  developments  for  a  few  minutes. 

Nobody  seemed  to   be  moving.     He    heard 


254  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

voices  in  the  room  where  the  lamp  in  the  win- 
dow had  prevented  him  from  seeing  what  the 
room  contained. 

One  of  these  was  the  voice  of  Prescott. 

The  other  seemed  to.  belong  to  a  man  also, 
and  Eric  wondered  at  this. 

He  had  not  supposed  the  artist  would  have 
a  friend  awaiting  him  here — generally  when  a 
man  runs  off  with  another's  wife  he  desires  to 
shun  society  of  all  sort.  There  was  reason 
enough  for  this,  which  made  the  action  of  the 
transgressor  the  more  peculiar. 

He  wondered  whether  there  was  net  some- 
thing about  this  whole  affair  that  he  did  not 
understand. 

Later,  he  found  out  that  this  was  so — that  a 
man  may  see  all  the  surface  indications  and  yet 
not  get  at  the  real  facts  in  the  case. 

He  waited  in  his  concealment  for  a  while, 
and  then  made  up  his  mind  to  push  matters. 

Why  should  he  not  appear  before  Paul  Pres- 
cott and  boldly  announce  his  intention  of  wrest- 
ing from  his  power  the  victim  of  his  spell? 

There  was  nothing  to  prevent  him. 

He  made  his  way  toward  the  door  that  led 
from  the  hall  into  the  room,  which  as  he  after- 
ward discovered  was  the  library. 


jo*  LESLIE'S  WIFE  255 

A  portiere  hung  there  in  place  of  the  door, 
and  a  more  excellent  opportunity  for  hiding  and 
spying  could  not  well  have  been  offered. 

Behind  this  he  could  find  a  small  opening  and 
thus  see  without  being  seen. 

When  he  looked  into  the  room  he  found  there 
were  but  two  men  there. 

One  of  these  was  Prescott — the  other  a  small 
man  of  severe  countenance. 

The  first  thought  of  the  detective  was  that  the 
latter  had  a  clerical  look — his  clothes  seemed 
on  the  order  of  a  clergyman,  white  tie  and  all. 

Then  he  concluded  that  he  must  be  mistaken. 
Surely,  a  minister  would  be  the  last  ona  in  all 
the  world  whom  Prescott  would  desire  to  have 
here. 

This  must  be  some  friend  whom  he  had  asked 
to  greet  them  at  the  cottage  in  order  to  encour- 
age Lillian. 

The  men  were  laughing. 

Prescott  seemed  in  unusual  spirits. 

Perhaps  he  had  been  imbibing — when  a  man 
in  his  sober  senses  commits  such  a  sin  against 
society  and  his  Maker  he  must,  generally,  for- 
tify himself  with  some  ardent  spirits. 

At  any  rate  he  had  the  appearance  of  a  man 
who  was  quite  satisfied  with  himself. 


256  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

The  world  had  abused  him,  in  some  respects, 
but  to-night  he  was  in  a  humor  to  bid  the  whole 
universe  defiance. 

Success  had  come  to  him — the  best  he  had 
ever  dreamed  of  was  now  at  his  hand. 

Others  before  Paul  Prescott  had  believed 
themselves  on  the  pinnacle  of  hope  and  power, 
only  to  find  it  all  a  dream  and  an  illusion. 

So  Darrell  reflected  as  he  watched  the  man 
whom  he  meant  to  speedily  humble. 

While  the  two  were  yet  talking,  a  door  in  the 
back  part  of  the  library  opened. 

Through  this  came  three  females.  The  first 
one  was  very  like  Prescott — indeed,  it  was  easy 
for  the  detective  to  determine  that  she  must  be 
the  artist's  sister. 

After  her  came  a  sedate  woman,  neatly 
dressed,  with  her  hair  parted  and  brushed  straight 
back  on  either  side — a  model  of  a  housekeeper. 

There  was  one  more. 

At  sight  of  her  Eric  started,  and  an  exclama- 
tion bubbled  to  his  lips. 

She  was  dressed  in  white  silk — the  long  cloak 
had  been  discarded,  and  the  heavy  black  veil 
that  had  screened  her  was  now  supplanted  by 
a  gauzy  white  one,  through  which  the  faintest 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  257 

glimpses  only  could  be  seen  of  her  face.  She 
was  a  picture  indeed. 

Eric  held  his  breath. 

He  saw  Prescott  rush  forward  and  take  her 
hand  with  the  utmost  eagerness.  Then  the 
other  led  her  forward.  They  stood  in  front  of 
the  second  man,  who  held  a  book  in  his  hand. 

"Good  heavens!"  muttered  the  detective. 

He  rubbed  his  eyes. 

What  mockery  was  this?  A  marriage — when 
she  was  already  another  man's  wife!  He  could 
hardly  believe  his  sight. 

The  voice  of  the  preacher  aroused  him,  and 
started  him  into  life. 

This  must  not  be.      It  was  sacrilege. 

Knowing  the  facts  of  the  case  he  would  be 
abetting  a  crime  if  he  allowed  this  thing  to  go 
on  without  raising  an  objection. 

So,  while  the  minister  was  still  talking,  Eric 
suddenly  sprang  into  the  room. 

"I  forbid  this  marriage!"   he  cried. 

A   scene  of  confusion  followed. 

The  women  fell  back — Prescott  swore  and  the 
minister  looked  amazed. 

An  interruption  like  this  seldom  occurs. 

"Upon  what  charge  do  you  dare  'stop  this 
sacred  ceremony?"  demanded  the  prearlier. 


258  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

"The  woman  has  been  married  before." 

"Yes." 

"Her  husband  is  living!" 

At  this  there  came  a  shriek  from  the  bride. 

"It  is  false,  false  as  Hades!  I  helped  to  bury 
her  husband  myself,"  shouted  the  artist. 

Eric,  with  a  quick  movement,  threw  back  the 
white  veil  from  the  face  of  the  almost  fainting 
bride  and  then  he  received  the  greatest  shock 
of  his  life. 

It  was  not  Lillian! 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  MESSENGER  WITH    GOOD    NEWS 

Eric  Darrell  might  have  been  frozen — he 
seemed  so  petrified  with  surprise. 

Instead  of  Lillian's  sweet  face,  marked  by 
horror,  he  saw  that  of  the  dashing  widow,  Mrs. 
Collingwood,  she  with  whom  Prescott  had  com- 
municated in  the  opium  joint. 

It  dawned  upon  the  detective. 

All  along  there  had  been  a  great  mistake — 
many  things  remained  to  be  explained  away, 
but  the  one  main  point  was  assured — Lillian 
must  be  innocent  of  the  charge. 

He  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  sense,  as  well 
as  a  man  of  action. 

Recovering  himself,  he  turned  gracefully  to 
Paul  Prescott,  who  was  glaring  at  him. 

"Mr.  Prescott,  there  has  been  a  grave  mistake 
here  on  my  part.  I  thought  this  lady  was  some 
one  else.  I  beg  your  pardon.  Let  the  ceremony 
proceed.  I  withdraw  my  objection.  When  it  is 
over  we  will  have  a  mutual  understanding. " 


260  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

These  words  restored  everyone  to  good  humor. 
The  artist  dropped  his  frown,  the  dominie 
found  his  place  in  the  book,  and  the  bride  again 
stood  up  beside  the  man  she  was  taking  for  bet 
ter  or  worse  and  the  ceremony  went  on. 

Now  was  a  chance -for  Eric  to  do  some  tal? 
thinking,  and  he  did  so. 

He  saw  many  things  in  a  new  light,  and  had 
about  arranged  all  he  wanted  to  say  when  the 
marriage  service  was  over. 

"I  pronounce  you  man  and  wife,"  said  the 
minister,  and,  bending  over,  the  artist  kissed  his 
bride. 

Then  the  three  females  retired  again,  the 
preacher  hurried  away,  and  Eric  found  himself 
alone  with  the  man  whom  he  had  had  under  sur- 
veillance for  so  long  a  time. 

The  artist  eyed  him. 

"Who  are  you,  sir?" 

"I  am  a  detective,  Mr,  Prescott — I  have  been 
in  your  presence  before*" 

"By  Jove!  you  are  the  man  who  bearded  me 
in  my  studio." 

"Yes,  and  the  man  who  rode  up  in  the  hacK 
with  you  to  Eighty-fifth  Street." 

"That  old  gent  with  the  cane?" 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  261 

"Also  the  friend  of  your  driver  who  came  up 
here  with  you." 

"And  you  are  hired  by  Colonel  Rogers — but 
if  so,  why  the  deuce  did  you  stop  the  ceremony 
and  then  allow  it  to  go  on?" 

The  artist  was  amazed. 

Well  he  might  be. 

The  detective  knew  he  had  good  reason  for 
surprise,  and  was  in  a  measure  ready  to  gratify 
that  curiosity. 

In  return  he  hoped  the  artist  would  reveal 
certain  strange  things  to  him. 

So  Eric  told  all  that  was  necessary — he  did 
not  even  mention  the  lady's  name. 

Prescott  smiled — he  thought  he  could  guess 
who  it  referred  to. 

"If  you  go  to  that  house  from  here,  my  friend, 
you  will  learn  something,"  he  said,  quietly. 

"But  what  does  all  this  singular  action  of 
yours  mean,  sir?  You  must  admit  everything 
seemed  to  prove  you  guilty,  even  to  the  lady's 
initial,  L." 

"Her  name  is  Laura.  As  I  said  before,  I  was 
at  the  burial  of  her  first  husband.  The  story  is 
a  long  one  and  I  can  only  give  you  an  outline 
of  it  — I  might  not  do  that  only  that  I  feel  in 


262  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

such  a  jolly  humor  on  this,    my  wedding  night. 

•"Jerry  Collingwood  and  I  were  rivals — he 
won  Laura  by  a  trick,  and  she  found  it  out  after 
her  marriage,  despising  him  for  it.  Then  came 
his  tragic  death,  perhaps  you  remember  it. 

"After  that,  Laura  went  to  live  with  her  uncle, 
Colonel  Rogers — she  found  him  a  stern  man, 
and  he  was  soon  plotting  against  her. 

"She  was  strangely  influenced  by  him — he 
had  a  power  over  her,  which  he  magnified  in 
her  mind,  and  she  obeyed  him  unquestioningly 
until  by  accident  we  met  again. 

"I  need  not  tell  you  all  we  passed  through — 
Rogers  wished  her  to  marry  his  son,  and  we 
finally  realized  that  he  would  give  us  trouble 
unless  we  took  the  bull  by  the  horns. 

""So  we  arranged  this  elopement — how  well 
it  has  been  carried  out  I  leave  to  you  to  decide. 

"Laura  is  now  my  wife — any  man  who  dares 
to  whisper  a  word  against  her  good  name,  were 
he  a  dozen  times  a  colonel,  shall  answer  to  me 
for  it  at  the  muzzle  of  the  revolver.  We  have 
outwitted  the  wily  Rogers,  and  he  will  have  to 
give  an  account  of  his  stewardship." 

"That  is  all?" 

"Yes." 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  263 

"It  is  enough.  Prescott,  even  when  I  had 
reason  to  believe  you  guilty  of  the  most  heinous 
sin  on  the  calendar — that  of  stealing  the  affection 
of  an  honest  man's  wife — there  were  points 
about  you  I  admired.  Since  learning  what  your 
true  work  was,  I  can  say  without  flattery  that 
I  am  sincerely  glad  to  know  you — glad  that  you 
have  accomplished  what  you  set  out  to  perform, 
and  trust  that  your  future  as  a  Benedict  may  be 
free  from  clouds." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I  have  waited  a  long  time 
for  Laura,  but  she  is  mine  at  last.  Won't  you 
stay  and  break  a  bottle  of  champagne?" 

"Thanks,  but  I  must  be  off.  I  have  another 
engagement  I  must  fill." 

"I  can  imagine  where." 

"Yes, "dryly,  "and  probably  this  will  be  as 
happy  a  night  to  another  man  as  it  is  to  you — 
he  has  found  a  wife  as  well  as  yourself." 

"And  the  lady  you  refer  to  is  the  sweetest 
and  best  little  woman  in  the  world — save  one" 
— hastily  correcting  himself — "the  man  must  be 
a  fool  who  could  doubt  her  constancy." 

"You  don't  know  all,  Prescott.  Her  husband 
is  the  truest,  noblest  man  I  know.  He  rejected 
it  all  again  and  again,  but  he  is  human  and  he 


264  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE' 

saw  and  heard  things  that  would  convince  a 
skeptic." 

"Probably  he  understands  all  by  this  time, 
and  he  will  eat  humble  pie  too." 

"I  hope  so.  Good  night,  Mr.  Prescott.  Bring 
the  doughty  colonel  to  his  knees." 

"I'll  wring  his  nose  if  he  gives  me  any  further 
trouble,  the  old  nuisance." 

"Success  to  you." 

Eric  Darrell  left  the  vine-embowered  cottage 
with  feelings  greatly  differing  from  his  entrance. 

He  was  light  of  heart. 

Not  only  was  this  on  account  of  Joe  and  his 
wife,  but  his  faith  in  womankind  had  been  saved. 

Had  Lillian  been  guilty  Eric  was  determined 
never  again  to  believe  in  a  woman. 

This  would  have  made  him  a  cynic  and  a 
scoffer  all  of  his  days — now  he  could  remember 
with  a  delicious  thrill  that  Marian  was  at  Joe's 
house,  and  he  would  soon  meet  the  original  of 
the  picture  that  had  charmed  him  so. 

He  did  not  remember  of  having  felt  so  good 
for  a  long  time  back. 

That  was  the  result  of  the  reaction. 

As  yet  he  could  form  no  distinct  idea  of  the 
true  state  of  affairs — all  was  chaotic  confusion, 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  265 

but  above  everything  he  saw  the  prime  fact  that 
Lillian  was  innocent. 

That  covered  all. 

How  Joe  must  rejoice. 

It  would  be  a  new  lease  of  life  to  him. 

So  the  detective  walked  out  to  the  street, 
and  found  the  hack  waiting. 

The  driver  greeted  him. 

"Glad  to  see  you  on  deck — it  was  a  mistake 
after  all.  Now  drive  me  to  the  corner  you 
brought  me  from  and  the  fee  is  yours." 

"Good." 

Away  they  rattled. 

The  detective  felt  inclined  to  smoke,  and 
was  soon  puffing  a  cigar  out  of  the  window,  as 
he  did  not  want  to  saturate  his  clothes  with  the 
strong  odor,  fearing  lest  Marian  might  be  one 
with  her  sister  in  objecting  to  tobacco. 

Then  he  wondered  what  time    it  was. 

They  had  started  at  ten  minutes  to  ten  and 
made  wonderful  time,  so  that  it  could  not  be 
very  late,  he  thought. 

Taking  out  his  watch  as  they  crossed  the 
bridge  over  the  Harlem,  he  found  that  it  was  fif- 
teen minutes  after  eleven. 

Would  he  be  in  time? 


266  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

He  did  not  know  how  long  these  informal  af- 
fairs were  apt  to  last,  but  at  a  rough  guess  fig- 
ured that  they  would  still  be  on  hand  at  mid- 
night and  he  ought  to  be  there  before  that. 

He  urged  the  driver  on. 

Finally  the  vehicle  drew  up.  They  had  ar- 
rived. When  Eric  found  that  it  lacked  fifteen 
minutes  of  twelve,  he  was  satisfied,  handed  the 
driver  his  fee,  and  hurried  along  the  street. 

He  drew  near  the  house. 

Lights  still  shone  in  every  window. 

Something  caused  him  to  feel  very  queerly — 
he  could  not  say  what  it  was. 

Did  Joe  know  all  ? 

Perhaps  not — he  might  still  be  in  a  fog  and 
wondering  why  all  the  plans  had  miscarried. 

Eric  did  not  hesitate. 

He  immediately  ran  up  the  steps. 

Then  he  noticed  that  the  parlor  was  deserted 
— the  good  people  could  not  have  gone,  for  he 
could  hear  the  laughter  and  buzz  of  voices — ah! 
they  were  doubtless  in  the  diningroom  below. 

He  rang  the  bell. 

A  colored  man  answered  it. 

"1  wish  to  see  Mr.  Leslie  on  important  busi- 
ness. Take  my  end  to  him." 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  267 

The  man  knew  his  business,   closed  the  door 

and  went  away  with  the  card. 

One,  two  minutes  passed. 

Then  Eric  heard  footsteps  within. 

The  door  opened. 

There  could  be  no  mistaking  that  figure — it 
was  Joe  who  stood  there. 

Eric's  eyes  sought  his  face  instantly — he  saw 
a  look  of  mute  pain  there  which  told  him  better 
than  words  that  Joe  did  not  yet  know  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CONCLUSION 

At  sight  of  his  friend  Joe  held  out  his  hand 
warmly 

"Eric,  old  man,  I  have  wondered  where  you 
have  been.  Everything  has  gone  wrong.  She 
is  still  here,  and  yet  the  hour  is  long  past — that 
villain  must  have  backed  out." 

"No,  he  carried  out  his  plans  to  the  letter; 
he  had  his  carriage  waiting,  ran  off  with  a  lady 
at  ten  o'clock,  at  eleven  was  married  to  her  in 
a  cottage  beyond  the  Harlem,  and  is  now  a 
Benedict  as  well  as  yourself,  Joe — but  it  was 
not  your  wife  he  was  after." 

"Not  my  wife?"  slowly,  as  though  the  won- 
derful news  almost  paralyzed  his  brain — "not 
Lillian  he  sought?" 

"Joe,  it  was  all  a  terrible,  a  cruel  mistake 
which  fortune  put  upon  you." 

"Good  heavens!  do  you  mean  it?" 

"Lillian,  your  sweet  wife,  is  as  innocent  as 
you  ever  believed  her  in  your  most  charitable 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  269 

moods.  That  I  will  swear  to — you  will  learn  all 
before  this  night  is  over,  and  I  believe  the  mys- 
tery of  the  locked  trunk  will  be  revealed.  Just 
now  I  am  famished  for  a  bite  to  eat  and  a  cup  of 
the  coffee  I  get  a  scent  of.  Suppose  you  invite 
me  in — I  am  not  in  evening  dress,  but  a  few 
minutes  in  your  room  will  arrange  my  toilet  and 
make  me  presentable.  I  want  to  see  this  thing 
out — -to  rejoice  with  you,  old  boy,  over  the  wife 
you  thought  you  had  lost  but  who  is  found  again. 
Besides,  you  know,  I  want  to  meet  Marian, 
and  I  know  she  is  here." 

What  could  Joe  do? 

He  dragged  his  friend  upstairs  and  himself 
assisted  to  brush  him  into  presentable  shape. 

Ten  minutes  were  consumed  thus,  and  then 
Eric  was  ready  to  go  down. 

All  this  while  Joe  had  plied  him  with  ques- 
tions and  the  detective  told  a  good  deal  of  what 
had  happened  to  him. 

There  were  some  things  of  which  he  would 
not  speak,  however,  and  hence  Joe  found  him- 
self in  a  state  bordering  on  bewilderment  when 
he  finally  went  downstairs. 

By  this  time  the  guests  had  finished  supper 
and  were  again  flocking  into  the  parlors. 


270  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

There  were  between  twenty-five  and  thirty 
in  all. 

Eric  was  introduced  all  around. 

He  noticed  that  there  was  some  little  secret 
among  a  number  of  those  present — Lillian,  all 
blushes  and  confusion,  was  being  consulted  by 
an  old  gentleman  with  a  white  beard. 

Although  Eric  had  declared  he  was  almost 
famished  he  would  not  leave  the  rooms  now 
for  supper — something  was  on  the  tapis,  and  he 
was  bound  to  see  it  out. 

Supper  could  wait. 

Ah !  it  came  at  last. 

The  elderly  gentleman  rapped  on  a  table.  Si- 
lence ensued. 

All  eyes  were  bent  on  him,  all  but  those  of 
Joe  Leslie,  and  his  blazing  orbs  rested  on  the 
blushing  face  of  Lillian — before  he  learned  all 
he  wanted  to  prove  that  he  no  longer  enter- 
tained the  slightest  suspicion  regarding  her. 

"Friends,  we  have  spent  a  very  pleasant  even- 
ing at  the  house  of  our  neighbor — we  all  cherish 
Joe  Leslie  and  his  charming  wife  as  among  those 
whose  names  will  never  leave  the  tablets  of  our 
memory — a  devoted  couple,  loving,  kind  and 
gentle,  whom  it  is  an  honor  to  know. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  271 

"Before  we  part  to-night,  it  is  my  pleasure  to 
officiate  at  a  little  surprise — I  am  going  to  let 
our  friend  Leslie  see  himself  as  others  see  him 
— in  brief,  I  shall  introduce  him  to  himself. 

"My  grandchild  Barbara  and  Mrs.  Leslie 
have  always  possessed  an  artistic  temperament. 
They  consulted  with  me  about  it,  and  I  took 
some  of  their  amateur  work  to  a  friend  who  is 
a  well-known  artist. 

"The  upshot  of  it  all  is  that  for  a  month  past 
Barbara  has  been  flitting  over  here  at  ten  o'clock 
every  morning  through  the  gate  we  have  in  our 
back  fence,  and  the  two  have  been  taking  les- 
sons in  painting  with  astonishing  success. 

"This  evening  I  was  astonished  to  find  a  fine 
oil  painting  of  myself,  true  to  nature,  on  my 
drawing-room  wall — I  had  not  dreamed  my 
grandchild  was  so  gifted. 

"And  now  for  our  fair  Lillian's  birthday  gift 
to  her  husband — bring  them  forth,  friends." 

Out  from  the  mysterious  closet  came  two  gold- 
framed  paintings — they  were  placed  on  easels 
prepared  for  them,  in  front  of  the  astonished  Joe. 

The  faces  were  those  of  himself  and  his  wife, 
astonishingly  well  done. 

He  hardly  glanced  at  his  own,  but  his  eyes 


272  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

were  glued  upon  the  counterfeit  resemblance  of 
his  dear  wife — done  by  her  hand  too. 

Eric  was  amazed. 

He  looked  from  the  painting  to  the  original — 
the  work  was  no  amateurish  daub,  but  worthy 
of  a  master. 

Could  it  be  possible  she  had  painted  it  ? 

She  was  a  genius. 

At  first  delighted  expressions  arose,  and  then, 
as  the  old  gentleman  raised  his  hand,  these  died 
away  again. 

All  eyes  were  turned  upon  Joe. 

He  stood  there  as  if  petrified — his  eyes  were 
glued  upon  the  picture  of  his  wife,  and  he  hardly 
seemed  to  breathe. 

Then  he  slowly  turned  his  gaze  upon  the  same 
face  in  flesh  and  blood. 

She  looked  at  him,  still  blushing — tears  were 
in  her  sweet  eyes — she  smiled  through  them. 

Joe  forgot  where  he  was — he  only  remembered 
that  he  had  wronged  that  dear  little  woman  by 
harboring  thoughts  that  reflected  on  her  love 
and  purity  of  heart. 

Another  instant  he  was  at  her  side,  had 
clasped  her  hand,  and  falling  on  his  knees  before 
her,  kissed  the  little  member  whose  cunning 
had  wrought  such  wonders  upon  the  canvas. 


JOE   LESLIE  S  WIFE  273 

The  others  believed  it  was  mute  adoration 
that  took  him  to  her  feet — regard  for  genius — 
and  they  thought  all  the  more  of  Joe  Leslie  be- 
cause he  could  appreciate  a  gift  as  well  as  a 
good  wife. 

There  was  one  present  who  knew  what  was  in 
Joe's  mind  as  he  bent  his  head  before  his  wife, 
unable  to  speak,  though  his  lips  moved  as  they 
formed  the  word  "forgive." 

To  cover  Joe's  terrible  confusion  Eric  made 
some  remark  appropriate  to  the  occasion,  and 
of  a  nature  to  create  a  laugh. 

This  answered  the  purpose  and  presently  the 
good  people  were  chatting  gaily. 

Joe  soon  found  occasion  to  seek  his  friend 
Eric,  and  squeeze  his  hand  until  the  detective 
winced  under  the  pressure. 

"Thank  heaven,  Eric,  for  this  blessing.  All 
is  bright  again.  I  have  the  dearest  wife  in  all 
New  York  to-night.  Tried  and  found  true." 

"And  she  has  a  deuced  fine  sister  too,"  said 
Eric  with  a  wink. 

"That's  the  way  the  land  lies,  eh?  Try  it, 
old  fellow.  Nothing  would  suit  me  better;  we 
would  be  brothers  in  truth  then.  And  I  declare, 
now  that  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  believe  you  two 
would  make  a  fine  match." 


274  J°E  LESLIE'S  WIFI 

"Nonsense,  Joe.  When  Miss  Marian  hears 
that  I  am  a  detective  she  will  shrink  from  me. 
People  honor  judges  who  sentence  people  to 
death,  sometimes  innocently,  and  great  lawyers, 
who  are  often  on  the  side  of  criminals,  but  at 
the  same  time  pretend  to  look  down  on  the  offi- 
cers of  the  law  whose  sagacity  leads  them  to 
arrest  those  who  break  the  statutes  of  the  state." 

"I  don't  know  about  that — she  adores  a  hero 
in  any  type." 

"Come,  don't  you  go  to  making  me  out  as 
such — I'm  only  an  every-day  chap  and  never 
expect  to  do  anything  heroic." 

"Save  your  worry.  If  I  tell  her  anything  at 
all  it  will  only  be  the  truth." 

As  it  turned  out,  Miss  Marion  was  rather  ca- 
pricious— she  heard  Joe  tell  long  yarns  of  his 
friend's  bravery,  she  respected  him  as  a  man, 
even  while  openly  disliking  his  profession,  but 
Eric  soon  saw  she  was  giving  him  no  sort  of 
encouragement. 

This  was  hard  because  he  was  already  deeply 
in  love  with  the  girl. 

He  went  his  way,  taking  his  disappointment 
as  best  he  could — they  met  occasionally,  but 
Eric  did  not  pursue  the  game. 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  275 

One  night  when  Joe  and  the  two  ladies  were 
on  the  way  home  in  a  street  car,  it  was  suddenly 
halted — there  was  a  fire  ahead. 

Marian  had  never  seen  a  large  fire  and  Joe, 
good-natured  always,  readily  agreed  to  take 
them  where  they  could  have  a  view. 

The  giant  shouldered  a  way  for  them  through 
the  crowd,  and  soon  they  stood  in  a  doorway 
watching  the  flames  play  riot  with  the  tenement 
near  by. 

It  was  a  terrible  sight  and  a  pitiful  one  to 
those  who  looked  on — many  poor  families  were 
driven  out,  carrying  what  they  could  lay  hands 
on,  one  a  trunk,  another  a  feather  bed,  and  a 
third  some  old  gowns. 

Fright  made  their  faces  wrinkled,  and  such 
looks  the  ladies  had  never  seen  before. 

Suddenly  a  cry  went  up. 

The  flames  were  roaring,  engines  pumping  and 
much  noise  sounding,  but  this  shriek  pierced  the 
hearts  of  all — it  was  a  mother's  wail. 

"My  child!  my  child — save  her!" 

All  eyes  were  fastened  upon  a  window  up  In 
the  third  story  where  the  face  of  a  flaxen-haired 
little  girl  appeared — blanched  with  fear,  and  yet 
curious  to  see  what  was  going  on. 


276  JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

The  ladder  wagon  had  not  arrived,  and  the 
flames  were  devouring  the  frail  tenement. 

Surely  the  child  was  lost— no  one  could  save 
her  there.  It  was  an  awful  period  of  suspense 
to  the  thousands  who  looked  on.  Lillian  and  her 
sister  held  their  breath  and  leaned  on  Joe  for 
support. 

Then  the  child  vanished. 

"Heavens!  she  has  gone — the  floor  has  prob- 
ably fallen  in,"  gasped  Joe.  "No,  no,  look!  there 
is  a  man  at  the  window — he  has  seized  the  child 
and  is  tying  her  to  himself.  Look !  he  climbs 
out  of  the  windows.  Ugh !  if  he  loses  his  grip 
both  will  be  dashed  to  pieces." 

They  gaze  as  if  fascinated,  both  of  the  gentle 
ladies  praying  for  the  daring  man's  success. 

He  swings  himself  boldly  along  the  ledge — 
none  but  a  quick-witted  man  could  have  seen 
the  chance  that  existed,  but  he  had. 

Reaching  a  certain  spot  he  took  hold  of  the 
pipe  that  ran  down  the  building — it  must  have 
burned  his  hands,  but  he  lowered  himself  by  it 
to  the  floor  below. 

Flames  were  beneath,  but  he  had  arranged 
his  plan — a  tall  telegraph  pole  slanted  in  here 
and  a  dexterous  man  could  leap  in  among 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE  277 

its  numerous  arms  —he   coolly   calculated    his 

chances  and  sprang  out. 

There  was  a  cry  of  horror. 

"He  is  down — no,  no,  by  Jove,  he  clings 
there  with  one  hand.  See  how  bravely  he  ex- 
erts himself — as  cool  as  a  cucumber  through  all. 
Now  he  seizes  a  new  support ;  he  will  slide  down 
the  pole.  Hurrah!  both  are  safe,  thank  heaven." 

Then  Joe  turned  to  Marian. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that  man?"  he  asked. 

"He  is  a  hero — I  love  him,"  she  said  impul- 
sively. 

"Good!  I  shall  let  him  know  that  fact  some 
day.  Here  he  comes  now  with  the  child  on  his 
shoulder,  his  face  blackened,  his  hair  scorched, 
but,  thank  God,  the  same  Eric  as  of  old." 

The  man  passed  them  by — it  was  Eric  Dar- 
rell! 

Marian  turned  white  and  then  rosy  red. 

"Joe,"  she  said  almost  fiercely,  "if  you  ever 
repeat  my  words,  I'll — go  back  to  Chicago." 

Whether  Joe  repeated  them  or  not  no  one 
ever  knew,  but  Eric  heard  enough  to  encourage 
him  to  renew  his  suit,  and  when  Marian  did  re- 
turn to  Chicago  it  was  as  Mrs.  Darrell. 

They  are  just  as  happy  as  Joe  and  Lillian — 


JOE  LESLIE'S  WIFE 

Eric  is  no  longer  a  detective,  but  has  been  study- 
ing for  a  doctor,  as  his  wife  believes  he  will 
make  a  name  in  the  profession.  She  will  never 
forget  watching  him  save  the  widow's  child  at 
the  risk  of  his  life — outwardly  she  loves  him  as 
a  true  wife,  but  in  secret  she  adores  her  Eric  as 
a  hero  of  heroes. 

THE   END 


iiiiijiiiiWiiiJiiiiri 

A     000128810     9 


